To Hell and Back
by Writer117
Summary: Dr Weir looked from Carson to Aiden, “Gentlemen, we have a hostage situation.”
1. Sleep With One Eye Open

Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.

Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.

Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.

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**Sleep with one eye open.**

Rodney's heart beat so hard against his chest he thought it would bust out. Pain shot up his shins with each step, breath gasped in and out of his searing lungs. 'I hate running. Where are they? Don't look back, don't look back. Are they close? Don't look back. Am I going to die? I don't want to die.' He bit his lip and ran harder.

"McKay," a shout came through the walkie. "Dial it up as soon as you get there and go through. Don't wait."

Rodney couldn't spare enough breath to respond but the major wouldn't get any argument from him. Topping the slight hill, he locked his eyes on the DHD just down the other side, running until he came up hard against it. Punching the Atlantis address, he felt Teyla at his side as the wormhole stabilized. He entered his IDC, motioning her that it was clear to go through.

The P-90 gunfire topping the hill spurred them toward their open escape route. Rodney watched Teyla run through just before he reached the dais but a stick in the back of his right leg brought him down before he could follow her. He panicked when his body refused to obey his commands to get up and run through that Gate. He was so close to escape.

John Sheppard topped the hill that hid the Stargate from the lynch mob hot on their heels. He fired into the dozen or so men still chasing them before turning to make his escape through the wormhole. As he neared the step up into the event horizon, Teyla went through but Rodney collapsed, face down in the dirt, just a yard away. He kneeled to scoop up the scientist on the fly but a pinpoint sting in his right arm stopped him. He looked down to see a toothpick sized dart sticking out of his bicep. Movement brought his attention to a man sporting the brownish colors of the Bahtron people emerging from the tree line just past the DHD, a blowgun in his hand.

Johns mind jumbled as the world spun around him in slow motion. He watched the man cautiously approach, joined by his brethren now walking leisurely down the hill.

Blink.

Looked down at Rodney, now unconscious, a dart sticking out of the back of his leg.

Blink.

Felt himself sit hard, as the strength seeped out of his muscles. Deep breath.

Blink.

Fell onto his back, staring up at the sky, watching the wispy clouds seemingly stationary amidst the sea of blue.

Nellek watched the strangers approach the Gate of the Gods from a thick covering of trees and bushes. One of them pressed a series of symbols on the pedestalthen a great river of water erupted from the circle, settling within the ring to form a wall. His dart missed the female as she ran through it but another hit the rounder male as he tried to follow. The taller male kneeled to help his friend but another dart brought him to the ground as well.

He stepped closer to the two men. The rounder one had already succumbed to the sleeping paste on the tip of the dart but the other still fought the effects. Nellek knelt beside him, as his brothers-in-arms gathered around, all watching curiously. He met his prisoner's eyes as they fluttered closed. Nellek smiled triumphantly as the man's head lolled to the side in complete unconsciousness.

"Master Tomar will be pleased," Nellek said, standing to face the group. With grins on their faces, they began planning a way to get their prisoners back to the city while avoiding the Noylan people.

A A A A A A

Teyla lurched through the Stargate, moving slightly to the side to give her team mates room to come through. She sat heavily, muscles quivering in exhaustion from the flight for her life. A roar filled her ears, making her head pound. Aiden Ford appeared at her side, his left arm in the sling Dr Beckett had given him to support the shoulder he had injured two days ago. She felt his hand on her back. With effort, she pushed out the thunder in her head to focus on his voice.

"Where are Major Sheppard and Dr McKay?"

She squinted at his question, looking around the Gate room with a confused expression. She saw half a dozen soldiers with P-90s aimed at the event horizon, Dr Weir running down the stairs, Dr Beckett coming from the corridor to the right. She blinked at Aiden, opening her mouth to speak but was interrupted when the Stargate shut down.

"We were being chased. They were just behind me," she stopped, eyes pleading with Dr Weir coming to kneel at her side. She couldn't think, her vision was dimming, the room spun around her. "We have to go get them..." she breathed as she collapsed in Aiden's arms.

Dr Carson Beckett broke into a trot when he saw Teyla on the floor of the Gate room. She seemed dazed or drugged. As the Gate shut down, he glanced around for the major and Dr McKay but saw no one else from her team. He was just kneeling at her side when she passed out. He felt for a pulse as his eyes scanned her body for injuries. Seeing a small dart sticking out of the side of her right thigh, he pulled it out, holding it for Dr Weir to see.

"Gentlemen, we have a possible hostage situation," Dr Weir stated, her expression tight, emotions buried deep.

A gurney rolled up beside them, manned by two of Dr Beckett's assistants. They quickly secured Teyla and rolled toward the medical bay with Dr Beckett, Aiden and Dr Weir trailing behind.

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Being in the final throes of school, I probably won't be able to update as quickly as I would like but will, at the very least, twice a week. 


	2. Gripping Your Pillow Tight

**Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.**

**Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.**

**Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.**

'indicates thoughts'

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**Gripping your pillow tight.**

Major John Sheppard's head felt as if it would explode. He tried not to move but his nagging body insisted that he wake and shift positions. He was flat on his belly, one arm under his head, the other above, both legs sprawled haphazardly. Aside from the headache, his shoulders and knees were protesting in a tandem rhythm with his heartbeat. He opened his eyes to see…nothing. He felt his face for a blindfold, not finding one. The room was black as pitch.

"Rodney," he called out of the corner of his mouth. Too quiet. He tried again with force, "Rodney." His own voice reverberated through his skull. He waited, eyes closed, for a reply. No breathing, no shuffling, no sound. That meant no Rodney. If Rodney were in there with him, there would be noise. It was a defined cosmic law. 'If he were dead...' his breath hitched at the thought '...Don't go there, John. If they wanted us dead, they wouldn't have used knock-out darts to catch us.'

Holding a deep breath, he drug his arms under his body then pushed up, bending aching knees, eventually twisting to sit on his butt, leaning against the wall. A semi-conscious self-evaluation revealed that his feet were naked, jacket and field gear missing. Pulling his arms around his middle, he noticed the heavy shackles around his wrists, joined by section of thick chain about eighteen inches long. The cold around his ankles led his fingers to feel the same cuffs around each with a separate chain leading somewhere out into the room.

A cough brought the sledge hammer in his head to the forefront of his attention again. The fit sapped his strength. He laid his head back, for a moment to let the pounding in his body abate. He shivered as the cold from the stone floor and wall seeped through his t-shirt and BDUs.

"Damn it," he cursed softly, gasping. His voice echoed back to his ears making him feel even more alone. This was supposed to be a simple trading mission. The people of this planet, P6X-420, were humanoid but not like the Athosian's were humanoid as in human looking. These people were humanoid as in two eyes, one nose and a mouth, two arms and two legs, all in the proper places but they had high foreheads, a bad case of male pattern baldness and ridges like a mountain range that ran from hairline to the bridge of their noses.

"They look like Klingons," Major Sheppard had whispered to Rodney out of the side of his mouth. Rodney had locked him with wide eyes but only responded with a tight exasperated lip twitch and eyebrow arch.

The mission was to come to an acceptable agreement with the Noylan people in the city of Drangoon for food and seed in exchange for medical supplies. The neighboring tribe, the Bahtron people of the Hajob City, disagreed, turning the mission into a fight to escape alive.

John hugged himself tighter, pulling his wandering mind back to the present. 'I gotta get out of here.' Sitting quietly, waiting for his captors to show themselves wasn't telling him where to find Rodney and wasn't helping him gather intel to formulate a plan of escape. At the same time, he could hardly keep his eyes open. He pushed against the floor to stand. Disoriented in the darkness, he used the wall for balance and followed it around to hopefully find a door.

Eyes wide in a natural attempt to see in the dark, he traced the rough walls with his hands as high as he could reach. The chains attached to his ankles scraped the floor. From the range of movement he had, he determined they were probably anchored somewhere in the center of the room. He guesstimated it to be about eight by eight. No doors, no windows, no openings of any kind that he could feel.

John's little walk wasn't helping his aching joints or the pounding in his head. It did warm him up but a tightness was developing across his chest. Another cough slid him down the wall to his original seated position. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair, clasping them behind his neck. The pinkie finger of his left hand brushed something at the base of his skull.

Eyebrows furrowed, 'What the hell?'

Agitated fingers felt around the quarter-sized metal disk. 'They messed with my head?'

Breath coming in gasps, he dug at it with his fingernails trying to pry it off. 'They put things in my head.'

Boosted himself onto his knees. It was embedded, near flush, leaving no room to grip it. A frustrated yell climbed up his throat, erupting in the room but sending it echoing back. His fingers slipped, no strength left in them. The room was spinning again. Exhaustion whirled him into a doze, curled up on the floor. The cold inside him grew more insistent making him curl tighter. His dreams were plagued by visions of people with blank faces sticking their gangly fingers into his brain.

A voice pulled him from the unexpected nap. He was shivering so hard it was difficult to unfold himself from his place on the floor. The voice, or rather voices, drawing closer motivated him to push into a sitting position. His head began to swim as soon as he was up and an unreleased cough rattled in his chest. He quieted himself to listen.

"…readings indicate that this one has increased internal temperature. I think he may be ill but I'll need to do an exam to be sure."

The voices came progressively clearer, stopping just to his left. A door that he had missed in his search swung inward, toward his face, blocking his view of the captors. He blinked against the sudden flood of light, eyes tearing.

"Where is he?"

John sat perfectly still, praying they would just go away. Now that he knew where the door was, he had a route out of the room and he could see his chains secured to a huge eye bolt in the center of the room. Maybe he could dig it loose or unscrew it or something. He couldn't think that far ahead yet. Instead, a dark haired man wearing a brown tunic and trousers stepped around the door.

"Ah, here he is. He was hiding from us." The man grinned back at his unseen partner. He sported the lines of age but his pale complexion was that of an indoor person.

'Scientist,' John thought bitterly.

"He doesn't look too good." His voice was condescending, like he was talking about a dog.

John took the opportunity to push himself off the floor to tackle the man. The chains were cumbersome, throwing his move off but it was effective in taking his captor to the ground. He was able to plant two good punches before an overwhelming pain took him to the ground. His mind fuzzed out as his body writhed in agony.

"Nellek, are you alright?" a concerned female voice drifted in from the corridor.

"I am fine, Kiersa." Nellek sat up, taking the correction device from Kiersa, strapping it around his wrist. "He is still quite weak." Nellek reassured her, kneeling beside his new charge. "I am pleased that Master Tomar was gracious enough to give me this one to train. He has fight. Although, this may not be as easy as I expected." Nellek keyed a small device around his wrist, watching the subject's body instantly slump, eyes closing.

The pain flowed through John's body and out of his toes in waves. Once released, he spiraled into blessed oblivion.

Kiersa hitched her brown dress out of the way, to sit on her heels beside Nellek. Tucking her long brown hair behind her ears, she leaned over the subject. She lay a hand on his forehead, shaking her head at the hat radiating from his body. She pulled out a hand held device that displayed data from the implant on a small screen. Touching the screen in various places, she clicked her tongue at the results.

"You're readings on the laboratory monitor were correct." She put the hand held in the pocket of her dress, meeting Nellek's gaze with full concern. "A fever burns within him. We must take him for treatment. Master Tomar would be greatly vexed if this one were to die."

Nellek nodded his agreement, standing to key the intercom just outside the door. "I need to transport Subject 517 to the medical lab."

Nellek returned to Kiersa's side. She was trailing her fingers through his hair. "He is an incredible discovery," he marveled.

Kiersa looked up at him, " Such a frail species. Do you think think are there others?"

"The others that were with him did not have readings like his. I am assuming he is an anomaly amidst their norm."

Kiersa's eyebrows raised. "That is a big assumption considering you have only studied three others of his kind."

"Each unique, though," he defended, raising a finger but not his voice at her. "The female was of the Athosian's race, with whom we have traded many times. The other three were like nothing I have ever seen. The short male that was injured on the first day of their visit, had an interesting core. The round male had similar readings but an artificial piece to his core structure. Now, this one," he laid a hand on 517's shoulder "had the most fascinating readings. I would have liked to keep all, even the Athosian, but when presented with my findings Master Tomar wanted this one."

"What will you do with the other?"

Nellek shrugged, "When this one is fully trained and I do not need him as incentive, he will more than likely end up at a farming camp."

Kiersa looked back at 517, eyes shadowed in thought. Footsteps in the hall brought Nellek to his feet, but she remained seated beside 517. She didn't know why but she almost felt sorry for him knowing, from her experience as a trainer, what the days held for him.

A A A A A A

The incessant pounding in Rodney's head brought him out of the darkness and into the…darkness. He ran a hand across his eyes to clear whatever was blocking the light. Finding nothing on his face, he waggled his fingers in the air but couldn't see even the faintest outline.

"Major Sheppard," he hissed into the darkness. No reason to draw attention to himself by shouting. "Major Sheppard." He listened intently. Unfortunately, he could hear as much as he could see.

Not comfortable having all sides of him exposed, he stood to feel his way to the corner of the room, noting the smooth walls and floor, both warm to the touch. It must radiate because he was warm despite being stripped to his t-shirt and BDUs. He reached the corner and slid back to the floor.

Aside from the headache, he felt groggy. He sighed remembering the incident at the Stargate but he couldn't for the life of him think of why. The Noylan people were friendly and accepted the team with open arms. It had been a peaceful couple of days spent feasting and exchanging stories.

"Come on, McKay, you gotta think," he coaxed himself.

Rodney massaged his temples then moved to rubbing the knots out of the back of his neck. He felt so alone, isolated. Alienating everyone was a self-defense mechanism, coming unbidden to his attitude and the way he treated people. But he knew where to find someone when he needed company. Right now he really needed reassurance. It was creepy in the Pegasus galaxy.

"The first day...," He spoke to the open room, keeping himself company. "...after the introductions, the neighboring people, the... uh..." He snapped his fingers trying to pull up the name. "... the Bahtron's. We hadn't been formally introduced but it was obvious they were extremely opposed to trading with strangers when they tried to set fire to the meeting hall." He paused his train of thought pulling up more information from his foggy brain. "On the other hand, they hardly seemed intelligent enough to mastermind a kidnapping... and for what purpose. Surely they didn't think it would sway the trade deal... or the trade partners. Did the Bahtron people want to be included in the trade agreement? Are they negotiating right now with Elizabeth?" He could almost picture her tight lipped, pacing the control room, not giving one inch into their demands.

He sighed heavily. Finally abandoning the hope of miraculously gaining nocturnal vision and the pounding in his head insisting on it, he curled up on the floor for just a little nap. His last coherent thoughts being of Major Sheppard, wishing he were there.

A A A A A A

Teyla awoke to the bleeping and shuffling sounds of the medical bay. She fought to open her eyes against the bright lights. Her vision was foggy and brain even more so. What had happened?

She laid her head back on the bed with a slight groan, eyes closed, as her memories flooded back. The followers of Tomar Bahtron attacked during the final negotiations of the trade agreement. She sat straight up when she recalled Major Sheppard and Dr McKay were left behind. "Dr Beckett," she called in a panic.

"Welcome back, love," Carson's gentle voice came from the left. "Easy now. You were hit with a pretty powerful sedative." He patted her shoulder, looking over the monitor displaying her vitals.

She looked up at him, eyes full of concern. "Did you get them back?"

Carson pressed his lips together, his expression held sadness when he turned back to her. "No. We sent a team back but they couldn't find any trace of them. The Noylan people are scared witless. They won't even speak to us, for trade or otherwise. It seems that little battle cost several dozen of the Noylan people their lives."

Teyla slapped the bed, grinding her teeth in frustration. "I should have seen it."

"Easy now. You couldn't have known, Teyla. We can't even figure out why they attacked."

She shook her head, closing her eyes in disgust at her own stupidity. "The first day, when Tomar came to Drangoon, every one of his followers had bio-scanners. The fire in the meeting hall was a diversion. He was searching for us." She turned serious eyes to lock onto Carson's. "He is a collector of the unique."

Carson's eyes widened. "And the Ancient gene makes Major Sheppard and Rodney very unique." He keyed the comms in his ear. "Dr Weir, this is Dr Beckett." He waited, shifting his feet impatiently.

"Carson, this is Weir. Is Teyla awake?"

"Aye, and from what she's tellin me, we may have a bigger problem than we suspected."

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So many reviews, for just the teaser! Thanks to all of you! I hope this story lives up to your expectations.

Third time is a charm right? Thing keeps eating my formatting!


	3. Exit Light, Enter Night

**Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.**

**Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.**

**Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.**

'indicates thoughts'

core structure DNA

BDU Battle Dress Uniform (their gray pants)

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**Exit Light, Enter Night.**

Nellek watched his new project sleep on the bed in the medical lab, the rhythmic rise and fall of the chest. Listened to the deep, even breathing. 517 was so perfect, smooth face, dark hair, not one visible blemish. He couldn't help but be fascinated. The central records dated back nearly ten thousand years and not one of them contained any information on a creature with this core structure. He was convinced that this was a unique species, as was Master Tomar.

Subject 517 had been fevered from congestion in his lungs. It seemed the dank accommodations of the cells, coupled with an adverse reaction to the sleep agent on the dart caused the health of the subject to fail rapidly. A combination of bacteria defeating medicines and vitality boosting herbs seemed to be helping greatly. His breath was coming easier and the color returning to his face.

Nellek would need a new cell built. Master Tomar would surely be accommodating for such an important discovery. Maybe the master would give him a commendation for the research and work he was doing. He would be renowned. Others would be knocking on his door for his training services... Movement brought his focus back to the present.

The smooth face twitched, arms and legs to jerk in mini spasms. Nellek sat on the edge of a nearby chair, leaning forward to be at eye level. From past training experiences, he knew that he must be the first person impressed upon 517's mind.

Nellek was soon met with dark eyes when 517 woke.

The sledge hammer in John's skull was back but this time it brought friends. He came back to his senses with a light groan at the throbbing of every joint and muscle in his body. The involuntary twitches of his muscles aggravated the waves of pain. The more he tried to relax, the more they tensed.

'What the hell happened? …Ah, crap. Ambushed at the Gate …then …what? A cell ... Somebody was there … and something else… something important...' Whatever that something was it put a knot in his stomach.

A sound nearby brought his attention outside of his own body. He smelled the medical bay. Praying to see Carson, he pried his eyes open. Instead of the medical bay, he was met with a semi-lit room, dark gray walls and ceiling, equipment he didn't recognize. Obviously not the medical bay. 'No miracle rescue.' He turned left to see the Bahtron man that had nailed him with that dart.

He cleared his throat to speak. "Who are you?" Cringed at the weakness in his voice.

"Kiersa," the Bahtron man called to someone at John's right. "Look, he wakes."

A Bahtron woman came around to stand slightly behind the man. She smiled at him. "He responds quickly to our medicines. It looks as if training can begin soon, Nellek."

John followed her with his eyes as she came to the other side of the bed. She fiddled with the controls to a piece of equipment that was feeding a purplish liquid into his body, then removed the long thin tubing from his forearm. Thoughts of alien drugs coursing through his body disturbed his subconscious but he couldn't bring his body under enough control to act on it.

She smiled at his curiosity then looked back at Nellek. "Do you have a plan for this one?"

Nellek leaned back in his chair. He was supposed to have a detailed training plan to submit to Master Tomar before beginning but with no information to build on, he was going to have to use trial and error. "Well, because I have nothing to reference on one such as this, I believe it will be a working plan. I do have a few ideas. We will begin with the most effective, noninvasive method."

'What are they talking about? Maybe they didn't hear me.' John licked his lips before asking again, "Who are you?"

Nellek stood, motioning to Kiersa. "Let's get him up." He slid a hand under John's head, boosting him into a seated position. Kiersa's stood behind him, hands rested gently on his shoulders.

A roaring filled John's ears at the upright position. His mind whirled at the treatment, gentle but insistent on his compliance. What were these people up to? Teyla didn't say anything about this 'training' thing. If she knew she would have said, right? If she knew there was a danger she would have warned him... right? God, Teyla. Relief rushed over him, remembering that she had made it safely through the Gate. Rodney... he had to find Rodney. He blinked, trying to focus on Nellek, trying to hear what he was saying to Kiersa.

Kiersa turned her back to them. Nellek's hands replaced hers, keeping John steady. Soon a full syringe was passed over his shoulder, when they traded hands on him again. Nellek flicked the bubbles out, Kiersa pushing John's arm straight.

Panic at alien drug treatments finally made John's brain and body fully connect. He pulled a bare foot up to push against Nellek's chest, plopping the alien into his chair. His escape was cut short when Kiersa got her arm around his neck, his back braced against her chest. He twisted, pushed against the bed to topple them, pulled her arm to get free but she was impervious to his wiggling and clawing. He couldn't even break the skin with his fingernails.

Nellek straightened himself, his features held determination. Dodging 517's flailing legs , he gripped his wrist with unmovable force.

John froze at the near bone-breaking pressure around his arm. Breath coming in great gasps, he raised wide eyes to Nellek's hard glare.

The needle slid easily into John's vein, the contents emptying into his bloodstream. It raced like fire up his arm, down one side of his body and up the other and across his chest, setting his nerves into an extension of his heartbeat.

As Kiersa felt 517's body slump, she settled him back on the bed. She reached to a nearby table pulling out a hand sized device. John squinted at it through the haze that had settled across his thinking. It looked like a life-signs detector.

"He seems to be ready. You must proceed slowly," she said to Nellek.

John rolled his head, bringing his gaze to rest on the ceiling. Wiping his eyes, he tried to put strength into his voice, "Who the hell are you people?" He wasn't even sure he spoke out loud.

Nellek, again pulled John into a seated position, leaned bonelessly against Kiersa. The drug was working to render the subject susceptible to suggestion. Nellek licked his lips, his excitement barely contained. He bent to be eye to eye with 517. "I am Nellek. This is Kiersa. You are Subject 517," he stated clearly and slowly, pointing for emphasis.

John stared at him. The throbbing of his body had dulled and his thinking was clearing. After a few steady breaths, he responded, "Are you serious?"

Nellek's eyebrow's furrowed slightly. Kiersa's readings indicated the drug to be thoroughly suffused through his system... He tried again, "You are Subject 517. I am Nellek."

With a sharp laugh, John looked from Nellek to Kiersa and back. "My name is Major John Sheppard. I came here with my team to trade with the Noylan people in Drangoon. Where is Rodney Mc..."

Nellek pressed his lips together at the disrespect shown by the subject but he wasn't angry. He knew from experience that some subjects were stubborn and needed extra patience. He tuned out 517's rambling and touched the wrist controller.

John's rant was interrupted by searing pain shooting down his body, out his fingertips. He doubled up on the bed, cradling his arms close. Then it was gone, leaving him gasping... and pissed. He glared at Nellek wanting nothing more than to strangle the freak.

"Subject 517," Nellek stated.

"John Sheppard," John ground between clenched teeth. He braced for the next wave but was unprepared and cried out at the increased intensity setting every nerve on end clear to his toes. He felt someone stroking his hair, vaguely heard Kiersa's voice.

"Shh, don't fight it. Shh."

It felt like hours before it stopped. Tingling trailed down his arms and legs, leaving them to twitch. He lay on his side, gasping, eyes pinched shut.

Nellek bent to look into 517's face. "You are Subject 517," he said evenly.

John's eyes popped open. He had an idea where this was going. "I am John Sheppard," he grated.

Nellek smiled, brushing the hair from 517's forehead. He watched those dark eyes follow his hand to touch the controller, widening just before then squeezing shut again at another wave of correction. "You are Subject 517. Say it and the pain will cease."

John felt like he was on fire, every nerve, every muscle ablaze. He bit out between gasps, "I. Am. John. Sheppard." If possible the pain seemed to intensify. Coherent thought fled, his brain overloaded from the intense torment.

Nellek pursed his lips leaning back, looking up at Kiersa. "Hmm, he is stubborn, isn't he."

Kiersa didn't let up her crooning, rubbing 517's back, just nodded at Nellek. "Perhaps we should look over these results before proceeding any further. He is still not well. And he is a treasure to Master Tomar. If we were to kill him in our ignorance, he would never let us train another."

Nellek nodded his agreement, releasing 517. "Firstly, remember that I am training him, not we. Put him in with the other of his kind until I can requisition a more suitable room."

Kiersa features hardened against Nellek's hard words. She turned to make arrangements to move 517.

John curled into himself. The pain was gone but his muscles continued to crawl and jerk. As he slipped toward the dark realm of unconsciousness, he vaguely wondered... how long this would take... how far it would go... before he would give in to Nellek's brainwashing... before he wouldn't be John Sheppard anymore.

A A A A A A

Rodney felt for his watch upon waking the second time to find it gone as well, probably the same place as the rest of his gear. He paced the room, counting out four full strides with a bit of one left over that he found by plowing face first into the wall. From what he could tell it was a perfect square.

He was currently sitting, knees drawn up, arms around his middle. It felt like days since being brought to the little dark room. He was hungry and thirsty. He muscles were getting jittery, signaling an oncoming hypoglycemic reaction.

"Hello?" he called into the darkness. "I could use some food or something to drink in here... Look, you obviously want me alive, hence the sleep dart, not the murderous arrow..." He leaned back, staring in the direction of the ceiling. 'Where are you, major?'

His mind wandered through various worse case scenarios. Dying in that room, left to lay for months. His body fat would liquefy, there would be a horrific smell. His skeleton would be found, leaning in the corner, stripped bare by the millions of bugs that had bred, incubated and fed on his corpse.

With a heavy sigh, he forcefully turned his thoughts another direction. Teyla. He was thankful Teyla got back through the Gate. She would be able to tell Elizabeth what happened. Then she had to send a rescue team... Right?... She wasn't going to send a team for Colonel Sumner... and he was the ranking military officer, someone important. 'No,' shook his head vehemently. She would come for them.

'They could be here any time, right?... Any time...'

A clang from the across the room was the only warning before the door opened and the room flooded with light, blinding him. He held his hands up to shade his face but the door had closed again before his eyes could adjust enough to see anything.

"Thanks for coming," he shouted. He laid his head back with a huff of frustration. "What exactly was the purpose of that?" he said to himself, then louder, "You could've left some food." He pressed his arms against his growling stomach.

A sound that was not his stomach made him scramble to his feet, ignoring the hunger pains. It was movement, something shuffling over by the door. A weak cough.

Rodney took a guess, whispering, "Major?" He listened intently for a response from his side of the room . Could hear harsh breathing. Another cough. He whispered again, "Major Sheppard?"

John roused when he was gently laid on a hard surface, the air was warm. Someone was yelling, forcing his mind alert. A cough rose in his chest that caused his head to pound when released. He thought he heard someone calling him. Heard someone moving, way to the left somewhere. Another cough choked him. Voice called him again. He knew that voice. Who was it? Forced his mind past the heartbeat rhythm to remember... Rodney.

"Rodney..." Relief flooded him, knowing the scientist was alive.

Rodney barely picked up the major's weak response. "Oh, thank God. Major Sheppard," he gushed, unable to keep the relief out of his voice. He crawled on his hands and knees in the general direction of the door, involuntarily jerked back when his fingers brushed something in the dark that made his bellybutton crawl. He reached out a tentative hand, coming in contact with Major Sheppard's shirt. "What happened? Can you move?"

John felt Rodney's hands on his arm, reassuring them both that they weren't alone in the dark. His brain was beginning to fuzz out again making him slow to move. "Head hurts..."

Rodney felt John's arm tense under his hand. Taking that as a 'no' to his question, he pulled the major into a sitting position, then slid behind him, locking his hands around the major's chest. He promptly retreated to the other side of the room, dragging his friend. When his butt hit the wall, he nearly dropped him.

"Watch it... trying to kill me," came the whispered protest. He leaned his head back against the wall. It was warm, much better than his first accommodations. His eyes slid closed as he shivered, wishing he could wrap himself in the warmth.

"Sorry," Rodney mumbled, settling at John's shoulder against the wall furtherest from the door. He could feel heat radiating from the major. He looked the direction of his intertwined hands, quietly asking, "What happened?"

John opened his eyes, rolling Rodney's direction, even though he couldn't see him in the dark. He thought about how to answer in a neutral way, to not panic the scientist, to reassure him. But that wouldn't be fair to Rodney. He needed to know what they were up against. He reached for Rodney's shoulder, following it down to grip his wrist.

Rodney resisted when John grabbed his arm and started to pull it up. "What are you doing? This is no time to be cuddly, major."

John's grin went unseen. He tugged Rodney's hand, placing it on the crown of his head, guiding it down across the device embedded just below there.

Rodney concentrated on what his fingertips were feeling. The heat radiating off the major, his sweat slicked military-cut hair, then something not supposed to be there... his gut clench at the metallic disk rooted at the base of the major's skull. He traced it, about the size of the pad of his thumb, flush to the skin. "What is it? **Who** are we dealing with? Wh...," the growing panic evident in the rising pitch of his voice.

"Rodney," John interrupted. "Headache, fever, ring a bell?"

"Sorry," Rodney apologized, swallowing hard in an effort to calm himself. He scrubbed his hands across his closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He sat straighter, turning John's direction. "What do you think they want with us?"

John stirred from his semi-doze. "Not really sure...," took a deep breath, bent one leg under the other, "The two I saw were of the Bahtron people. Remember, from our first day here, they set fire to the meeting hall and got Ford sent home early..."

Rodney nodded. He wasn't really listening to the words the major spoke but focusing on the gradual slurring of the words. He could feel the weight of the major's body steadily increasing as he slumped against him bit by bit.

"You still there?" John called. His voice was weakening with each sentence. He felt dizzy, his muscles were quivering.

"Oh, yeah. I was nodding," Rodney said sheepishly. He was worried about the major. From the sound of him, he wasn't going to be conscious much longer.

"Well, I can't hear your head rattle, McKay."

"Ha, ha, ha," Rodney replied in a sing-songy voice. He was silent for a moment before shifting away, exclaiming in a hushed voice, "God, you are so hot."

John smiled to himself. Too easy. "Why, thank you, Rodney but you're not really my type. Let's see..., that cute nurse with the braid, she's... my type..." John's voice lost all strength, his head lolling on Rodney's shoulder.

"Major?" Rodney's voice raised an octave. He shrugged his shoulder to nudge the major awake. He was rewarded with a barely audible reply.

"Sorry... 's for punishment..."

"What?" Rodney hissed.

"Causes pain... trying to make me forget... who I am." He tried to answer the question from earlier, give Rodney as much information as he could before he lost the consciousness fight.

Rodney's mind raced through various scenes of Major Sheppard being tortured by Bahtron bullies. He remained silent, listening to the major's breathing deepen as he slipped into the much deserved sleep. Although he wasn't sure how much good it would do with them stuck in the dark, on a strange planet and not a lot of hope of escape...

'When he wakes, he'll think of something. He always thinks of something.' Rodney folded his arms protectively across his chest, eventually dozing off.

A A A A A A

"Dr Weir, I feel responsible. The Noylan's are peaceful and trustworthy. I never expected the Bahtron people to interfere." Teyla sat at the conference table, feeling very small. Dr Beckett had released her once the headache left her. Dr Weir wanted to debrief immediately so they could plan a rescue.

"Teyla, no one blames you. What I need is for you to tell me everything you can about these Bahtron." Dr Weir sympathized with the young Athosian woman. They were both in leading positions, with leadership responsibilities.

Teyla took a deep breath, intertwining her fingers on the tabletop. She looked each of the gathered team members in the eye as she spoke. "Tomar Bahtron is a reclusive collector. He travels to other worlds gathering anything considered valuable. If he cannot barter for it, he will steal it." She met Sgt Bates cold stare. "Even kill for it." Turned back to Dr Weir. "He was banished many, many years ago. His followers are coerced into his service by fear, threats on their families or their own lives, or are as adamant as he is in the unique and unusual. The last time I visited with Hersha, the leader of the Noylan people, Tomar hadn't been seen in many years." Her gaze fixed on Aiden. "It seems he has begun adding people to his collection." She ended with her eyes on Carson.

The room became deathly still. No one moved or spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.

Carson licked his lips, closing his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. What would they find if Rodney and Major Sheppard were rescued? How does a man 'collect people'? What does he do with them once he has them?

Aiden rubbed at his shoulder, remembering the collapse of the building that injured him. If he had been there he could've laid cover, been another gun to help everyone get home safe.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, thinking about her head scientist and ranking military officer, captured, enduring who knows what. She needed a plan to get them home.

Sgt Bates sighed, tracing his mouth with his thumb. He knew they needed to be found, no one gets left behind but there were so few military personnel. Did it warrant losing some to save two men? Two important men, that were extremely valuable to this expedition.

Aiden was the first to break the silence. "We need to get them outta there," he said in his best no-nonsense tone.

Sgt Bates stared at the center of the table as he responded, "With all due respect, sir. We don't even know where to start looking." His tone was regretful.

Elizabeth turned a hard gaze to both men. "Gentlemen, you are forgetting that the Noylan people have accepted us as allies. Teyla, if we can make certain assurances as to their safety, can we count on their help?"

Teyla looked away briefly then back, her eyes holding sadness. "I am not sure. They are known as a meek people. I am not sure they can handle conflict."

"Let's find out. Sgt Bates get a team together, including Dr Beckett. Find a way to bring our men home. Dismissed." Dr Weir waited until everyone had filed from the room before resting her head in her hands. This wasn't in the job description.

* * *

Whew! Still there? Hope you like! 


	4. Take My Hand

**Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.**

**Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.**

**Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.**

Metallica explanation-- Each of my stories has a soundtrack, songs that I listen to while writing certain chapters. Some of my stories come when I read to the words of particularly angsty music, occasionally the lyrics becoming the chapter titles. The first five are from Enter Sandman, for those who didn't know.

* * *

**Take my hand.**

Nellek leaned close to the monitor. The viewing room was dimly lit to maximize the quality of the picture. He watched, mesmerized, as the two subjects dozed, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the cell. His stomach growled making him wonder when he last ate. He knew he hadn't slept during his normal sleep cycle. Being assigned to 517 was too exciting to waste even a few moments on sleep.

He depressed the blue button on the wrap-around control console. "Kiersa, have you interpreted the readings from the training session yet?"

Kiersa's voice echoed through the speaker, "Not yet, Nellek. I'll bring them as soon as I am finished. Will you be in the viewing room?"

"Yes. I am going to observe the first feeding." He released the button, then pressed it again, "Zemi, send sustenance to Subject 517 and guest. Thank you." He released it again without waiting for a reply. He didn't need to wait, everyone in the complex knew he had been commissioned by Master Tomar himself. He leaned back in the chair, looking down at his stomach as it growled again.

Nellek was munching his own breakfast by the time Zemi brought the food. He raised a dim light in the cell after the trays were slid through the slot at the bottom of the door. It was enough the rouse the round one, who gently laid 517 on the floor to go investigate the food. He was quite loud, very vocal about everything, shouting something about poisoning. He stuck a finger pale gruel, looking to the ceiling to comment that sustenance tasted like paste. A sip of the water brought an appalled expression and that the water was too warm to be palatable. Nellek sighed, turning off the monitor's sound.

517 woke to the other's loud utterances. He seemed disoriented at first, a common side effect of the early stages of training. The round one helped him to sit then brought the food. They chatted, the round one seemed to fuss over 517 quite a bit. A hand on his forehead, the insisted drinking of the water, even the eating of the food was forced.

Nellek pulled out the hand device, peering at the readings. Data from the training module implanted in the back of the subject's neck supplied information on the health of 517. The influencing drug had diffused through his system as it should. The fever had just broken and he was able to consume a little of the food. He hadn't moved much, only when necessary.

Kiersa quietly entered the observation room. She had grabbed a breakfast of fresh fruit on her way to bring Nellek the results of the primary training session. She watched him from the door for a moment. He seemed infatuated with this subject. Why? What made this one so special? Maybe it was being commissioned by Master Tomar that was making this so important. It _was_ an honor to work for Master Tomar himself. Clearing her throat, she crossed to Nellek. "It seems that the suggestion solution was metabolized so quickly it didn't have a chance to be effective," she informed him, pulling a chair from against the wall to sit next to him.

"Shh," he whispered, not taking his eyes from the screen. "Just watch them..." They watched the two subjects in silence. The round one brought 517 the other cup of water, unbidden. Then the two sat shoulder to shoulder, talking quietly. 517 wrapped his arms around himself, shivering enough to be visible, finally stretching out on the floor. "See? They depend on each other. Discretely, of course, but never the less they are a strength to each other." Nellek turned to Kiersa so swiftly she nearly jumped back. "I think I have a plan. I am going to inform Master Tomar and see if he would like to proceed with such a drastic method." He activated the personal comms to Master Tomar.

Kiersa continued to observe 517 and the other. The way they spoke to each other, their body language, the dependency on each other. She had an idea of Nellek's training plan, almost feeling sorry for 517.

**A A A A A A**

John sighed heavily, "I don't know what they want. They didn't ask me any questions, just kept trying to get me to say that I'm 517." He lay on his belly, cheek resting on clasped hands. All the surfaces felt warm but he found the floor to be warmer than the walls so he kept as much of his body as he could contact with it. Rodney had been asking him in various ways, what had happened, what they wanted, did he have a plan of getting them out. John was finding that the more time passed the more he couldn't remember the details of what went on after waking up the the Bahtron version of a medical bay.

Rodney had watched the major like a hawk since he finally woke from the fevered sleep. That man was their best hope of getting out of this place alive and Rodney was going to have to take it on himself to make sure John stayed well enough to do it when the opportunity presented itself.

"But you're feeling okay now, right?" He fidgeted with his fingers, almost afraid of the answer to that question.

"Yeah, fine... kinda tired, but fine," John replied thoughtfully. Half truth but truth, none the less. His muscles ached, temples throbbed, stomach wasn't holding onto that awful tasting food... but he wasn't in stabbing pain, like before.

"So what do we do?"

John tilted his head to see Rodney out of the corner of his eye. The man was obviously frightened. Who wouldn't be, faced with pain and brainwashing and slavery and... He took a deep breath, not sure what to say that would calm the scientist. He wasn't sure how to get them out and he had a feeling Nellek wouldn't stay away too long. That creep seemed to enjoy torturing him, like a cat playing with the mouse before it eats it. He finally answered, his voice quiet, "Just wait."

Rodney huffed, rolling his gaze to the ceiling, then back to John. "That cannot be the only thing your shoot-first nuke-em-all military-trained mind can come up with." He was sorry the instant the words left his mouth but, faced with certain doom, he couldn't help but turn on the only form of defense he had. His face fell when he saw the major at a loss for words. He was asking a lot of him, knowing the man had a foreign device implanted in his head, that caused him pain at the whim of some psycho self-proclaimed trainer. What was that anyway? Trainer? Trainer of what-- dogs, elephants, monkeys? Not people. People aren't trainable, are they? What about potty training? Or chew with your mouth closed? Or...

"McKay?"

The strained whisper brought Rodney out of his reverie. He blinked, looking at Major Sheppard. Rodney blinked again trying to process the look on John's face. He had pushed himself to sitting on his heels, hands resting on his thighs. His body was trembling, his eyes wide, lips pressed together. Major Sheppard was scared.

"What?" Rodney asked, instantly coming to his side. His hands opened and closed uselessly. He brought the left to rest on John's back to give a small show of support.

John spoke through grit teeth, "S-something's happening..." He raised a hand to grip the back of his neck so hard his finger nails were white.

"Let me see." Rodney pried at his hand when the major didn't respond. "Let me see," he insisted.

John braced both hands on the floor in front of his knees, letting Rodney see the torture device. It had started as an icy tingle, that spread inward from the device, into his head and down his neck. He had tried to get Rodney's attention but the man was off in daydream land. When the ice turned to fire, he was able to make enough noise to pull the scientist back to reality. By then his brain felt as if it were roasting in his skull, his eyes watered, his breath was coming in shallow gasps, he felt as if fire were erupting from his ears. He could only knot his hand in the front of Rodney's shirt and pray it would end soon.

Rodney was scared. John trembled under his hands, gripping his shirt like it was a lifeline. His eyes glazed over, his mouth hung open slightly as if he couldn't get enough air, sweat dripped from his forehead leaving tiny pools on the floor. Rodney saw the light in the center of the device on the back of Major Sheppard's neck blink red, intensifying his symptoms. After what seemed like hours but was only a few minutes, the light faded to a blue strobe then stop all together, releasing the major to slump sideways to the floor.

The sudden relaxing of his friend made Rodney's heart seize in his chest. He pushed the collapsed major onto his back, hand around his neck to feel for a pulse. Finding a strong beat, he dropped his forehead to Sheppard's chest in relief. "Oh my god, you scared the hell out of me," he breathed. What now? He raised his eyes to the door, shouting, "What the hell now? ...What do you want, you bastards? ...You're cowards, all of you." His voice lost strength with each outburst. "You bastards," he finally whispered, eyes on Major Sheppard. He sat back against the wall, forearms resting on upraised knees.

A sharp gasp brought Rodney's attention to John's glassy eyes staring up at ceiling. "Rodney," he whispered.

Rodney rolled onto his knees to meet John's confused gaze. "Yeah?"

John swallowed. He couldn't think. "Uhm, ..." Slow blink. "My brain... 's melted."

Rodney kept a straight face as he scurried around to lift the major into a seated position, "That happened a long time ago, major. Probably all those frat parties..."

A raced knife through John's body, culminating in his gut. He cried out, making Rodney drop him back to the floor where he curled around the hurt. Eyes pinched shut, ears deaf, his senses overloading.

Rodney jumped away from the major, afraid he had hurt him trying to move him. "What? Major, what?"

Another stab, this time through his head, temple to temple. He swallowed hard trying not to yell. He could vaguely hear Rodney calling to him, each time the pain increasing. Everything around him dissolved to a pinpoint of light, the world imploded on him, driving the air from his lungs. At the center of the upheaval was Rodney's voice.

Rodney panicked at the conniption that reduced Major Sheppard to a trembling knot. He tried to get him to tell what was happening but he only got worse, so bad he couldn't speak. "Major, please, you have to tell me what's happening," he pleaded.

John formed the words in his mind before he could utter them aloud, inside screaming 'shutupmckay,shutupmckay,shutupmckay.' Finally, it crawled past the hurt and erupted into the room. "Shut up, McKay," he cried, head held firmly between his hands to keep it from falling off and rolling across the room.

Rodney sat back, mouth shut, eyes wide. He couldn't look away as the major's pain seemed to stop, breathing still coming in hitched gulps but his muscles going slack.

John's body started to relax, allowing him to uncurl slightly. He felt as if he were waking from a dream. Never, in his wildest daydreams, could he have thought of such pain. Coming a little more aware, he slowed his breathing and, eventually, opened his eyes. A dull throbbing settled behind his eyes, pulsing dark patches marred his vision, but the pain was otherwise gone.

Rodney watched, arms wrapped tightly around his chest, as Major Sheppard struggled to come back to himself. What the hell happened? Was this a new torture? Should he speak at all? Was it his voice or just certain words or phrases that set the major off? Did it pertain to Rodney at all? Maybe they were close, watching, using some sort of remote. He roamed the room with his eyes, looking for anything that could be a camera or... two way mirror...

Rodney stood, glancing down at Major Sheppard, who was still struggling into coherence. He walked the room, touching the walls at seams and rivets. Pressing his face against the wall to the left of the door, getting a crosswise view of it, he was able to see a six inch square section that was slightly off color. 'Hmm, could be a camera or viewing portal...' looked down to gauge the height, about seven feet up the wall, 'No, can't be a window, too high off the floor.' He reached to touch it, felt like glass. 'Camera then.'

"I don't think it was me." He kept his statement quiet, returning to Major Sheppard's side. He didn't miss the unconscious recoiling reaction to his voice.

John couldn't suppress the startle reflex when Rodney spoke. He pushed himself to sit against the wall, arms wrapped around his middle, head tilted back. He watched Rodney as he scooted closer.

"I think they're turning it on by remote control." It was barely a whisper. He motioned to the hidden porthole. "I found where a camera could be watching us."

John's face twitched but he felt no pain from Rodney's voice. "So they don't even have to be in the room for this thing to go off?" Dread and fear raised up in him. An invisible attack, complete surprise, no way to see it coming or predict the timing. He drew a shaky breath, closing his eyes against the raging feelings. Blowing it out hard, he tightened his features against the anxiety, turned to Rodney, "We gotta get outta here."

"How?" Rodney couldn't meet his friend's eyes, knew the fear that was being barely held in check. Now it was his turn to be the optimist. "Teyla got back to Atlantis. Lizabeth _will_ send a rescue team... I know she will." He studied his hands. "You just have to hang on, major."

Pain hit John again. Like doing a cannon ball in the Ross Sea buck naked, the air was driven from his lungs. He collapsed onto his face, trying to scream, to breathe but couldn't.

Rodney jerked to his knees, shouting toward the door, resting his hands on the major's back, "Come on... Stop this... God..." He watched helplessly, as John twitched and writhed in agony.

**A A A A A A**

Nellek turned from the monitor to grin at Kiersa. "See? 517 will accept his new life very soon."

Kiersa chewed her lip. "I know this is the fastest way to bring a subject into submission but it is also the controversial. It could damage him beyond our ability to repair, it could kill him..."

Nellek shook his head, interrupting her, "Look at him. He is emotionally very strong. Using his friend to ultimately undo his grip on self-awareness will be the only thing that works..." He looked back to the screen, where 517 was curled on the floor, screaming from the pain his own name was inflicting. "This will work... It has to work."

A A A A A A 

Lt Ford could see by the downcast look on Teyla's face that the news wasn't good. She strode back to the group, features almost sorrowful. As she drew near the cluster of team mates, she drew her her shoulders back and squared her jaw. He knew she was slipping back into capable warrior mode.

"Tomar turned to collecting people about five seasons ago," she told Ford.

"So this something fairly new. What, a year or so." Ford exchanged a glance with Bates. "Why the sudden interest?"

Teyla sighed, looking at the ground before meeting Aiden's gaze, as if to choose the wording of her response. "It is rumored that he found a device, with strange writings." From the corner of her eye she saw Dr Beckett shaking his head, turning half away, lifting a hand to his forehead. "He taught himself to read these writings. Since then he has been very bold in abducting certain visitors to the planet." She turned to face the doctor. "All are found dead within a few days of disappearing."

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Sorry for such a long wait, real life and all... Hope I didn't disappoint.


	5. Off to NeverNever Land

**Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.**

**Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.**

**Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.**

* * *

**Off to never-never land.**

"Are you telling me they have no idea where this Tomar takes his victims?" Elizabeth couldn't keep her voice from raising as she spoke. She stared hard at the open wormhole envisioning Lt Ford on the other side head high, shoulders back, giving his report.

Lt Ford stood before the Stargate, hands clasped loosely in front of him. "Yes, ma'am, unfortunately. No one sees them come and go. That or they're too afraid to say. No one wants to disappear in the middle of the night, if you know what I mean."

"I catch your drift, lieutenant."

"But we have searched the city where his followers live and found an abandoned lab. There is a good chance he has a new lab at another location... where he does something to the people that somehow kills them, then dumps them back here for the Noylan's to dispose of. The leader of the Noylan people, Hersha, says the Bahtron's visit every week or so."

"Well, that's good, right? You can follow them back?"

"If it was the Ancient gene he was looking for, we are hoping greed will bring him back." Aiden turned to face the rest of the team. "We have a sort of plan."

Carson balked at Aiden's plan. "No, we don't. We have a long shot. An idiotic idear that has only a fraction of a percent's chance in Hades of workin..."

Elizabeth frowned at Carson's interruption. She knew the man was normally quiet and reserved but when he was frightened, he wasted no time firing up the motor to his mouth. She exchanged a look with Peter before cutting the doctor off, "Carson, what's the plan?"

Aiden glared at the doctor as he came to stand alongside the lieutenant. "It is the best we've got. I didn't hear you throwing out any ideas..."

"Gentlemen," Dr Weir resorted to her motherly tone of voice. 'I sound like my mother and I don't even have children,' she sighed, rubbing her temples. She squared her shoulders again. "I need to know what you are planning."

Carson and Aiden broke from the staring contest to look toward the Stargate at Dr Weir's call. Carson let out a soft sigh while Aiden answered her question.

"We want to use Dr Beckett as bait. Having found two people with the gene, we are hoping Tomar will continue to send his scouts to find more." He turned hard eyes to Carson, almost daring him to protest. "We could fit Dr Beckett with a tracking device..."

Elizabeth finished the plan for him. "And follow him when they take him. It would work only if the Bahtron's come back."

Ford nodded. "From the intel we've gather, there is good reason to believe that an insider that notifies Tomar when visitors arrive."

"Carson, it sounds like a good plan." Elizabeth wasn't military and she wasn't going to order him to do something he was uncomfortable with. She heard a heavy sigh and could picture the Scot pacing, running his hand through his hair.

Carson set his hands on his hips, keeping his gaze on the ground. "No, it doesn't... but we don't have a host of other options, do we." He knew he wasn't getting out of it and if it would bring the major and Rodney back, he would do it.

"Be safe." Came Elizabeth's blessing.

Aiden set a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "We'll update you every twenty-four hours until something happens. Ford out." He signaled Bates to shut down the gate.

A A A A A A

Kiersa blinked against the sleep in her eyes. She and Nellek had been alternating observation of Subject 517 so each could get adequate sleep but Nellek's definition of adequate and hers were two different things.

517 and the other had stopped speaking just as her shift was beginning, the effects of the training device making it impossible for them to interact. 517 was showing signs of withdrawing from his companion even before then.

A beeping from the control panel brought her attention to the monitor displaying the constant reading of the training device. She frowned at the results. It read that 517's brain activity had decreased significantly. This was a positive sign, finally. She depressed the comms to call Nellek.

A A A A A A

Rodney sat huddled in the corner, knees drawn up, arms around his chest. He was bored and under-stimulated so his mind was wandering through random thoughts. They hadn't seen anyone since being placed in the same room. They had been fed six times since their first meal as prisoners. Assuming three meals a day, it made this halfway through day three. Of course, he didn't know how long they had been there before the first meal. With no way of telling time they could be getting fed only twice a day which would make this about day four. Surely a rescue plan was in effect, right? Why was Lt Ford taking so long to find them? Maybe this place was underground... or on another world... how would they be found then?

A strong exhale from across the room brought Rodney's gaze to Major Sheppard. The major was sitting in the diagonal corner from Rodney, knees drawn up, as far from him as possible while being confined to the same room. He had retreated there after becoming so overwhelmed by the pain device that he couldn't form a coherent thought, apparent to Rodney by the vacant stares he fell into while recovering from each attack.

It started with any mention of the major's name or rank. Thinking themselves clever, they used code names- Bob and Doug, Bo and Luke, even Solo and Chewy. Rodney, of course, adamantly insisting he in no way resembled a seven foot wookie. But it adapted quickly, punishing Major Sheppard whenever it sensed he was on the receiving end of a conversation, whether he spoke or not.

"Probably works off of how your brain reacts when you know you are be addressed," Rodney had tried to rationalize.

The device would light, the pain would come and Rodney could only watch as his friend was reduced to a screaming, quaking ball of pain.

John hadn't expressed it in so many words, but Rodney could see his resolve was weakening. He had stopped talking two meals ago, only sitting in his corner, his features emotionless. His eyes were dark, haunted. Rodney couldn't miss the hopeless look on his face before he buried his face in his folded arms.

Rodney was shaken from his thoughts by the clanking signaling the door was about to open. He pushed to his feet, wincing at the knots in his thighs from disuse. He glanced to see if the major noticed but he hadn't even moved. He thought about getting closer to him, somehow protect him. He didn't even get a chance to move before the door swung wide, admitting an arrogant looking Bahtron man.

He gave Rodney only a glance as he walked over to kneel beside John. "517," he called softly.

Rodney sucked in a breath. 517. A cold knot formed in his stomach. He had witnessed first hand the pain these people were inflicting on the major for accepting his own name, to make him forget. Major Sheppard said they were trying to make him forget who he was. 'What should I do? I have to get us out of this. What would Major Sheppard do?'

Nellek walked in the cell. 517 had withdrawn from his companion to sit in the corner, forearms braced on raised knees, head bowed. The two were separate, that was good. This method was working. He glanced at the round one standing a bit unsteadily in the opposite corner. He looked as if he were building up the nerve to be defiant. It didn't matter. It was time to take 517 to meet Master Tomar.

Nellek lowered to one knee beside 517. He called him gently, not wanting to startle him. "517, you must wake. Master Tomar wishes to meet you." He placed a gentle hand on his head.

Rodney watched as the Bahtron man put his hand on Major Sheppard's head, stroking his forehead with his thumb. Anger overwhelmed him, making him shake with contained rage. He glanced at the two brutes, both watching him like cats eyeing a caged rat. He felt like a rat, lab rat. He was gaining new respect for Carson's little white mice.

Someone was calling him. What was happening? He couldn't remember where he was. His body hurt, his headed pounded with his heartbeat. Something bad had happened but he couldn't remember what. Something bad had happened but he wasn't in the medical bay. Couldn't smell the sterility or feel the crisp air. He wanted to step through the fog that was keeping his memories hidden. What was that something?

A pinpoint of memory broke through the darkness. He grasped it, caressed it, followed it until reality came crashing back, slamming into him so hard he gasped aloud.

Someone was touching him, pushing his hair around. He prayed it was Carson. Carson was good. Carson was nice. Carson could make the pain go away. Carson could make this thing in his head go away. Yep, Carson was good. John lift his head to see Nellek. His gut knotted. This wasn't over. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to go home. Wanted to sleep in his own bed. Wanted to eat real food. Were military rations considered real food? Rodney liked them. Rodney would eat pretty much anything. Rodney... where was Rodney?

Glassy dark eyes roamed until they locked onto helpless blue. He didn't look so bad, shaky, scruffy but unharmed. 'Can't talk to him. I want to talk to him, tell him... what? Everything will be okay? There is no rescue. Elizabeth didn't send a rescue for Colonel Sumner... a colonel... why would she risk lives for us?... Oh my god, there is no rescue...'

Nellek watched the conflict play on 517's features. Hands clenching and releasing, toes curling and flexing, eyes lacked focus. When his breath began to catch in his throat, Nellek turned to his assistants, "Get him up. He isn't responding very well."

Rodney couldn't take his eyes off Major Sheppard's. His insides churned, shoulders slumped at the direction things seemed to be moving. They were going to take Major Sheppard away. He would be alone again. Hopelessness closed it's fist on his chest, feeling as if it would suffocate him. What was going to happen to them now?

A A A A A A

Nellek had taken him away from Rodney. Brought him to another room. He had tried to keep mental notes on directions and visual markers but eventually one torch-lit stone corridor looked like the other, all blurring together. Nearly convinced they were running him in circles to keep him confused, he started to protest when they came up to a set of intricately carved double doors.

Nellek pushed the doors wide, leading them into a cavernous room. The torch light flickered against the stone making it look like the dungeon of a horror movie castle. John kept his head lowered while flashing his gaze around to take in the towering columns and low pile red carpeting that stretched straight to the other side of the room.

The double doors closed behind him with an echoing rumble that resonated in John's heart. He squashed the fear, pushed the dread down deep, swallowed against the tightness in his throat. The entourage continued herding him forward, passing neatly shelved gadgets, apparatus and doohickeys, to stop at the base of a low dais on which sat an over-sized throne. This looked like a museum or a pirate's booty room.

Nellek watched 517 out of the corner of his eye. He held in the glee that threatened to erupt in a laugh at the awe in the subject's features. He wasn't sure how this meeting would go. It was a little early as 517 wasn't submissive yet and hadn't accepted his new life.

"So this is the one," a deep, echoy voice filled John's ears. He blinked, not seeing where the voice was coming from. He looked to the left to see a man, Klingon-looking just like all the other inhabitants of this planet, with a long cape that drug the ground, sauntering toward them. He stopped directly in front of him, towering a foot taller than John and twice as broad.

Nellek and his men lowered to one knee in respect for their master. He didn't notice until too late that 517 had not.

John pulled his shoulders back, squared his jaw, stared hard at Tomar.

"Ahh," Tomar purred. He stepped close to John, meeting his angry gaze with one of humor. "Defiance." He tilted to look at the back of Nellek's head. "I am disappointed, master trainer. You should have had this taken care of by now."

"Yes, Master Tomar. I wasn't expecting your call for a few more..." Nellek's excuse was interrupted by 517 crashing down on top of him. They landed in a heap, 517 thoroughly stunned by the powerful backhand. Nellek helped him to his knees, keeping his own eyes averted. 517 spat blood, wiping his chin with a shaky hand.

"Give me the control device."

Master Tomar's clipped voice made Nellek's insides quiver. He didn't hesitate in handing over the wrist device.

John's head reeled at the force behind the idle slap from Tomar. He bowled into Nellek then rebounded to land on the stone floor. Trying to gather his wits, he rested on his knees. If this was how the day would continue, it wouldn't be long before John was dead. Then it would all be over. No more pain. No more worries... Worries... Rodney. He had to bargain for Rodney.

"Hey," his voice was scratchy from abuse. Tomar turned to face him, the control mechanism in his hands. John tried not to let the fear show on his face. He swallowed back the lump in his throat before proceeding. "I want to make a deal with you."

Tomar arched an eyebrow at this new attitude. He looked down at the creature at his feet. Physically weak, shock of dark hair, dark eyes... expressive eyes, full of fear but his actions, the set of his shoulders, the clenching of his jaw, spoke resistance and courage. Tomar smiled, a thrill racing through him when the brave front wavered.

John went on trying to ignore the knot in his stomach tied by the creepy smile that spread across Tomar's face. "I'll do whatever you want but you have to let my team mate go."

"I do not make deals," Tomar continued in that tormenting drawl. He slowly walked around 517. "I can make you do anything I want... and your team mate as well." He dropped to one knee behind 517, setting his hand heavily on the subject's shoulder. He traced the control device lightly with his index finger, pressing upward to the top of the head. Flexing and curling his fingers in 517's hair, he lowered his voice to whisper, "You are my property."

John grit his teeth as Tomar continued to invade his personal space. Anger and fear coursed through his body making him tremble. John froze as Tomar touched the device in the back of his neck. His eyes caught something shiny on the side of the throne, locked onto it, concentrating to block out the icy fingers in his hair. Like scratching a dog. When Tomar claimed him as property, the anger surged, overloading his senses, pushing him into action. While twisting to the left, he brought his right elbow up and back against Tomar face. He didn't wait to see the damage but rather shoved forward to roll to his feet, facing Nellek and the two goons.

Nellek watched Master Tomar out of the corner of his eye. He had never seen the master work but it was incredible how he could instill so much fear with only a touch. He saw the rage building in 517's face but didn't realize how far it would go until too late. The tantrum lasted only a blink but Master Tomar was on his back, the control device had flung out of his hand, skittering across the floor and 517 was punching, kicking and dodging the two underlings for all he was worth.

Nellek's men made quick work of pulling 517's arms straight behind him, forcing him to kneel until his head nearly rested on the floor. 517's breath was coming in great exerted gasps from the fight and being bent nearly double.

John relaxed in the grip of his captors to relieve the pressure on his shoulders. His cheekbone ached where one of the goons got in a hit. He kept his eyes on the floor, the lump returning to his throat. He failed on two counts, Rodney wasn't free and he wasn't dead.

Nellek held a hand to Master Tomar, pulling him to his feet. Then went in search of the control device.

"Nellek." Tomar's voice echoed through the room. Nellek trotted up to the master's side. "You have failed." In one swift movement, he snapped the trainers neck, letting him fall to the floor.

John couldn't breathe as he stared into Nellek's dead gaze. Tomar's boots came into his field of vision, saw him pry the recovered wrist device from Nellek's clenched fist. He thought his heart would beat out of his chest. 'God, help me.'

Tomar knelt before 517, attaching the controller to his wrist. "According to the texts I have accumulated, it takes a special piece in the core structure to activate the machines I have gathered. You have the purest form of that piece I have encountered. I need you to show me how to use them."

John's mind raced. The Ancient gene. He was taking about the Ancient gene... so whatever he found, if it was really Ancient stuff, would be pretty powerful. This guy was a power-hungry psychotic. Many innocent people would be enslaved and murdered at his hand. He couldn't risk that, even at the cost of losing his own life... or Rodney's. He was yanked from his thoughts by his head being pulled up by a fistful of hair. He met Tomar's cold gray eyes with complete defiance, even challenge.

"Show me," Tomar snarled, his patience clearly exhausted.

"No," John ground between clenched teeth.

"Then I hope pain is something you enjoy."

* * *

I hope I still have friends! Thanks for all the encouraging reviews! 


	6. Arise, Shine

**Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.**

**Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.**

**Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.**

* * *

**Arise, Shine.**

Carson stripped off the heavy robes that blended him with the Noylan's dropping them to the side of his make-shift tent. He lay down on the cot wearing only his t-shirt and uniform pants. The day had been boring, meandering around the city acting like a tourist, trying to impress the covert Bahtron spy. He couldn't see anyone acting strangely or spy-ish. Nothing out of the ordinary but he wasn't exactly sure what constituted ordinary either. Now he was tired from the incredibly long drawn out hours of sunlight and sweaty from the robes, together making him cranky. He flopped onto his belly, grumbling. Lt Ford, Teyla, Sgt Bates and Sgt Markham were camping out by the Stargate, waiting for him to activate the tracking beacon. This was such a bad idea, he couldn't even begin to explain how much.

Watching the door flap lazily whip in the evening breeze, his eyes grew heavy. After a few long blinks, his eyes finally closed. His mind drifted, wondering what was happening to Major Sheppard and Rodney. His imagination could be quite graphic at times. He was hoping the Bahtron didn't come but at the same time he was praying they did and that he was blessed enough to get his missing friends home.

A sharp sting to the upper part of his right arm, snapped his eyes open. In the pale moonlight streaming through the open door flap he could just make out a toothpick-sized dart protruding from his bare arm. He didn't even get a chance to move, thinking only of activating the tracking device but the strength drained from his limbs too soon. As consciousness fled, he saw two shadowed figures tiptoe into his tent. Then everything went dark.

**A A A A A A**

Aiden woke to the smell of coffee brewing on a campfire. He breathed deeply, coming back from dreamland at a leisurely pace. He didn't want to leave the arms of the lady-friend that had been visiting his dreams of late. He rolled onto his side, opening his eyes a crack to see Markham pouring a steaming cup of the dark liquid stimulant. The man was scruffy, as they all were from camping out for three nights. Widening his field of vision, he noticed the sky was pinking up with the dawn. "Anyone heard from Dr Beckett yet?"

Teyla came from behind, stepping over him with an armload of small branches. "Not yet. He is quite nervous about all of this, making it difficult for him to sleep." She dumped the wood near the fire, dusting off her clothes. She didn't continue, sucking at a thorn prick in her finger.

Markham passed her the cup of coffee, then drew himself one, finishing her train of thought, "So we thought we would give him a few more hours."

"You're going to spoil him," Aiden chuckled, puffing his chest and throwing his arms wide in a momentous stretch. "Can't have that." He stood twisting his back until he got three good pops in each direction. "Where's Sgt Bates?"

Markham tossed his head in the direction of the far bushes. "Call of nature."

"I'll go check on Beckett, then." They had wanted the doctor to blend so he didn't have a walkie, only the slim Ancient tracking device affixed to his chest under his right arm. Aiden rubbed his arms against the chilly wind, donned all of his gear and began the ten minute trek to Dr Beckett's tent.

The sun was peeking over the horizon as he neared the brown burlap tent the doctor had to barter for in the city. The fire in the front had long ago burnt out and the door flap was whipping freely in the wind.

Aiden's insides grew cold at the quiet permeating the camp. "Doc?" he called toward the tent. He expected to see the bleary doctor pop his head out but he didn't. Holding his weapon at the ready, he peeked in. Aiden's heart went double-time seeing the cot tipped and the bedding strewn about the dirt floor.

He ran back out calling to the doctor. Maybe he was relieving himself. But why would the tent be trashed? Maybe he was in the village. This early? "Doc?" he called spinning a slow circle to scan the flat prairie-like terrain. Receiving no reply, he keyed his comms, "Teyla, Markham. Dr Beckett is gone... We lost him."

**A A A A A A**

Rodney paced the small room shouting and cursing until his legs gave out. He had been returned to pitch darkness shortly after Major Sheppard was taken. The food hadn't shown up yet either and his stomach was telling him it was way past time.

He threw himself to the floor against the wall as opposite the door as he could figure. His imagination was running wild at what that rat-bastard Nellek was doing to Major Sheppard. The pain he himself inflicted by just saying John's name, made Rodney sick to his stomach. He wished Carson were here to ease the major's suffering or that Lt Ford were here to blow that nut-case away. But they weren't here and it was up to him to come up with a way to get them both out of there. But how? They wouldn't let talk to him, made no demands, he hadn't seen one other person since Nellek took the major. He was an animal to them and so was Major Sheppard.

**A A A A A A**

He was in perfect blackness. It was thick, cradling him, lulling him for a long time. He didn't have to think or feel or see. It was a quiet, peaceful place. There was no pain, no fear, no Tomar. He didn't have to be a leader or savior or warrior. But too soon it began to recede, his consciousness to fight upward, back to the surface of reality. He didn't want to go back.

Tomar had toyed with him, cat and mouse, lion and antelope, Wraith and human. But he didn't quit, couldn't quit. For Rodney, for the innocents of this world, for the innocents of any other world. Tomar was a power hungry lunatic. John could never allow him the strength that Ancient technology would grant him.

Tomar showed him many items that looked to be of Ancient craftsmanship, some weapons, some not, most like nothing he had ever seen before. John knew that all he had to do was touch the things and his DNA would betray him so he kept Tomar busy with a combination of sarcastic remarks, escape attempts, and the ever-effective silent treatment.

When he wouldn't cooperate, Tomar used the pain device but his preferred method of punishment seemed to be physical contact. Leaving the pain on, he would slap John around. Slap, not punch. One punch would have probably killed him. No matter how he goaded Tomar, he wouldn't get angry enough to use a fist.

Eventually time whited out. John couldn't keep a thought anymore. He had no idea how long it took, but his body failed to respond after being slapped down again.

Tomar's boots had appeared in front of his face, voice rasp in his ear, "You are going to make this hard, aren't you. Tomorrow will be much more fun."

And John knew no more until now. The pain from the device was still there, set on about the level of a dentist drilling a nerve without novocaine. Through the nagging hurt, he knew he wasn't going to be able to retain his sanity much longer.

He came into fire, burning through every muscle, every bone, every fiber of his being. It consumed him, stealing the breath from his lungs, choking him. Lying on his belly, panting, he felt the world come rushing back. He pried his eyes open to see the same room. He heaved a whimpering breath. He wanted this to be a dream so badly it consumed him.

"Ah, I see you are awake." That haunting voice made John's insides churn. Sucking a deep breath, he lifted his head to search out the origin. To look Tomar in the eye was to reassure himself that he hadn't given in to the torture.

He seemed to be in the center of the room. Tomar was to his left, sitting on the low steps leading up to the throne. With immense effort, John slowly pushed himself to his knees. His head felt too heavy causing him to lose balance and brace himself with his hands. He felt too much like he was bowing but he couldn't move any further. Tomar had begun to circle in slow tormenting footsteps. He concentrated on the stone floor to keep the growing panic hidden. "Is it tomorrow already?" he rasped.

Tomar knelt before the trembling being. Yesterday was for fun but today would be for true, no more delays. "I have something for you."

John turned his head to look directly into Tomar's eyes. Hard, heartless, soulless eyes. He tried to suppress a chill that started at the crown of his head, traveling through to his toes. He failed miserably. He covered with, "Oh, really? You shouldn't've."

John couldn't stop a flinch when Tomar shot a hand out to wrap around the back of his neck. Pulling John close, he whispered, "Show. Me."

Heaving great breaths in near panic, John shook his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat. "No," he whispered blinking back the moisture that sprang to his eyes. He knew what would come for his refusal. His body dreaded it. When Tomar released him, he returned his gaze to the floor, struggling to control his breathing.

The footsteps echoed past John and continued for what seemed like forever. John closed his stinging eyes, incrementally lowering his head to rest on his forearms. He was so tired, the pain device was still on causing his nerves to pulse with his heartbeat, he yearned for home. During the first parts of this evasive game, he thought about activating anything that looked like a weapon and using it on the bastard but he figured he wouldn't get far with Tomar in possession of the wrist controller. Then he would be killed knowing he had given him a step toward dominating the people of this planet. And he still had Rodney, Tomar still had Rodney and could use him to activate more weapons or worse things. That was as far as his thinking got before pain required his utmost attention.

"Look at what I have for you, 517."

Tomar's almost gleeful voice called him from inside himself. He didn't want to look. Apparently he didn't perk up fast enough. His breath caught when the pain intensified, whiting out his vision. When he turned, pushing himself into a seated position, the pain lessened to the drill in the tooth level. He squinted at the two stumbling figures Tomar's brutes were shoving toward him.

Rodney swallowed against the panic raising inside. Two goons had yanked him from the pitch dark cell to lead him down countless corridors for who knows how long. Long enough that his glucose-deprived leg muscles were quavering. Maybe it was his turn to get an implant in his head. Maybe they were taking him to Major Sheppard. Maybe they were going to kill him.

Unfortunately, fear and bullies and low-blood sugar tended to loosen his tongue. "Where are we going? Did I mention that I have an acute aversion to pain? I tend to respond well to a hot meal, plushy accommodations, a little ki..." His rambling was interrupted by a slap to the back of the head from the goon on the right, making him stumble. Rodney felt it best to shut his mouth. Rubbing the spot on his head, he marched on with his escort eventually ending up in a vast torch-lit room lined with equipment. Glancing as he was pushed past, Rodney could make out various Ancient trademarks on some of the pieces.

A familiar figure was being pushed along several steps in front of him. Peering through the dim light, he was able to make out Carson. What the hell was he doing here?

Carson felt as if someone were doing a jig inside his head. He had woke up some time ago in complete darkness. He was barely getting his bearings when two big galoots yanked him out to lead him down a million corridors of exact description. Perchance they were taking him to Major Sheppard and Rodney.

Shooting a sideways glance at the guards, he moved his hand discreetly under his right armpit. Pretending to scratch his ribs, he ran his thumb across the Ancient device affixed there. Unable to check it, he had no idea if it was even working. Dropping his hand, he prayed it was.

The corridor opened out into a vast room. Carson slowed, gawking at all of the shelves lined with shelves of equipment. An iron grip on his arm propelled him forward. He squinted through the poor lighting catching sight of a large man. From the description the Noylan people gave, he deduced it must be Tomar. He was terrifyingly big.

Toward the front of the room was a massive throne on a dais. Kneeling at the foot of those steps was a familiar form. "Major Sheppard," Carson called past the hulking Tomar.

John's eyes widened at the sight of Dr Beckett and behind him Rodney. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what Tomar's gift would be. His concern for his team was cut off when Carson called out to him. Every muscle locked rigid with agony. He collapsed to the floor, his face grinding into the brick, a long scream erupting from his soul.

**A A A A A A**

Lt Ford paced before the open Stargate. "I have no excuse, ma'am. We should have expected this. I..."

"Aiden, I need you to focus. Dr Beckett had the tracking device on him, right?" Elizabeth's feelings were going a dozen different directions. She wrung her fingers, pacing in front of Grodin at the control panel.

Lt Ford beat back his guilt at losing the doctor. He knew it wouldn't do anybody a bit of good. He squared his jaw, straightened his shoulders. "Yes, ma'am. We placed it under his arm hoping they wouldn't check there."

"And how long has he been missing?"

Aiden glanced at his watch. "I checked on him less than half an hour ago. The fire was long dead so he was probably taken some time in the night... What?" He turned to Markham, running toward him.

"Lieutenant?" Elizabeth frowned, staring hard at nothing, trying to catch a piece of the conversation happening on the planet.

"We have it. It's coming from the mountains east of the Noylan city, about a half hour hike from here." Lt Ford's voice held obvious relief while taking on a hardened tone. He was ready to retrieve his missing team mates.

"Be safe, lieutenant. "

"Always, ma'am. Ford out." As the gate snapped off, Lt Ford turned to his team. "Let's bring them home."

**A A A A A A**

Tomar looked between the two newcomers, frozen by the distress of their companion, and 517, writhing on the floor. "Think kind thoughts, 517," he called, in a light voice. He motioned the guards to bring the two closer. "See the gift I have brought you? I told you today would be fun."

John fought hard to being his breathing under control. With all his mental strength, he concentrated on bringing his twitching body back under control. Rodney was here, now... and Carson. How the hell did Carson get here? What would Tomar do to them?

The pain receded back to the dentist drill level once again. He almost thought the short sharp one was better than the low constant. He lay on the floor, shaking uncontrollably, curled so he still had full view of his friends.

Carson had nearly jumped from his skin at the gut-wrenching cry that erupted from Major Sheppard. The man looked in a bad way, nothing defined in this lighting but the fact that he was on the floor in agony was enough for Carson's insides to twist. He turned to Rodney, who had just reached his side as they were shoved forward, his face stark shock. "What in bloody hell was that?"

Rodney's face grew long, his shoulder's slumped. He pinned Carson with wide blue eyes. "Don't say his name," he said simply, forcefully. A pop on the back of the head from one of the goons, forced his attention forward.

John watched as his friends got closer. Rodney walked with his gaze barely off the floor, hands twitching at his sides, feet dragging. John knew he needed to eat soon. Carson paced him, eyes wide taking in the whole room. John knew from the jumpy, twitchy body language that the doctor was frightened near out of his wits.

Tomar's long legs obstructed his view, making him blink to shorten his focus. He followed the legs up to the amused face. Blinked again as Tomar knelt, leaning close. He was fiddling with a device about equal to his over-sized hand. "We will start small." He dangled it above John. "Activate it."

John clenched his hands into fists, pulling them under his chest, spoke through grit teeth, "No."

Tomar let out a heavy sigh. "Your companions each have the unique piece for which I have been searching, the one that activates these devices. Stronger than others I have used but not as strong as yours. All the others died quickly, either by the mechanism they were touching or by my hand because they could work nothing. The likelihood of them dying, one way or the other, is great."

John gave him nothing but a hard stare and stubborn silence.

"I grow weary of this game." He dropped to a knee in front of john. He tangled his fingers in his short hair, pulling him to his knees. "For every refusal you give me, I will break an appendage..." Turned his head to face the others. "Of one of your companions."

John glared at Tomar out of the corner of his eye. "I will. Kill you," he stated clearly, resolutely. Somehow Tomar would die by his hand.

Tomar turned his gaze to meet John's. A wide smile split his face. "No you won't. Do you know why?"

Cold slowly started to seep through John's insides. He waited as Tomar left an agonizingly long silence, eyes never leaving his, before continuing. He felt Tomar's hand leave his hair to touch the device in his neck.

"If you kill me." Tapped the disk hard. "This will kill you. Slowly, painfully. Your senses will overload, your systems will shut down and you will die." He set the unknown device beside 517 and stood swiftly, leaving him braced on his hands and knees. "So, let's get started, shall we? No. More. Games." Tomar stopped, facing 517's cell mate. He took the trembling man's hand in his own, pulling it straight. When the man tried to pull back, the guards restrained him. When his companion made a move to protest, another guard clamped a large hand over his mouth.

If Rodney had had anything in his stomach, he would have spewed it onto the floor as Tomar rolled his arm, prepping it for a clean break. He wished himself to faint, not caring about the ribbing he would receive when this was over... if they were still alive.

Carson heaved breath through his nose, his lips pinched hard against his teeth, held immobile against the broad chest of the brute. Panic raised inside him, seeing Tomar position Rodney's arm. That would take pins to set, months to heal, probably muscle and nerve damage in the long run.

John pulled a whimpering breath. His hands shaking so hard he almost dropped it, he picked up the device.

* * *

Thanks for all of the wonderful feedback. You guys are awesome! 


	7. For Your Light Has Come

**Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.**

**Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.**

**Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.**

* * *

**For your light has come.**

Kiersa pressed her hand against her lips to keep from screaming. She was peeking through the seam of the entry doors to the collection room when she saw her brother drop to the floor like a stone and not move. When Master Tomar's men lifted him from the floor, she could see from the hanging of his neck that he was dead. The master continued to use the pain device and physical blows to render 517 unconscious. The scene replayed over and over in her mind.

Anger surged through her. Master Tomar was supposed to be a great man, respectable but this was not the actions of an honorable person. A plan began to form in her distraught thinking. Pulling herself together, she turned her back on the room and started back toward Nellek's lab.

**A A A A A A**

Lt Ford saw the entryway first. He clicked the walkie four times to bring Teyla and Sgt Markham to his position then twice to hail Sgt Bates at the Stargate. "Bates, we've reached the entrance. It seems to be built into the side of a small mountain." Ford turned to the others jogging up to his side. "We're going in. If you don't here from us in...," turned his wrist to see his watch, "two hours, you'd better get backup."

"Copy that, sir. Good luck," came Bates' static ridden reply.

Aiden approached the enormous intricately carved double doors. He sighed at the keypad to the left of the door. This could be a problem. He reached out to touch it when the door made an audible clank and creaked open just a crack. He exchanged glances with his team then gave the sign to move in.

Markham took point with the tracking device receiver, Teyla in the middle and Ford at their six, each with P-90s raised and ready to shoot anything that wasn't Dr McKay or Major Sheppard.

"It's like a maze in here," Markham commented after making dozens of turns, passing dozens more subcorridors.

"How are you opening all of these doors, sergeant?" Teyla asked after seeing Markham walk up to a third closed door only to have it release for him allowing access.

Markham shrugged, glancing back at her. "Not sure but I think we are getting some inside help."

She frowned at him. "Are you sure it is wise to follow? Could it not be a trap?"

Ford spoke this time. "Maybe but we need to find the major and Dr McKay and these doors are opening, leading us directly to them. We'll figure out the rest later."

"We will do them no good by getting captured or killed," Teyla continued to argue.

"I know, Teyla, but Bates has our back. I told Dr Weir I would get them back and I will." Ford's insides pulsed with adrenaline. He knew it was a half cocked mission but they would just have to agree to disagree. "Just like sneaking onto a hive ship to save you." He flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Teyla, however, did not feel reassured. She wished Major Sheppard, Dr McKay and Dr Beckett well and safe but this was too creepy to make her feel confident.

They continued on in silence for a while. The only sound their standard issue boots in the dirt floor.

"This place is like Medieval meets Ancient... Are you sure you're reading that thing right?" Ford asked from behind. This was taking longer than expected. The place was dark, with only a few torches lighting the vast corridor. The flashlight attachments on the P-90 gave additional light but not enough to move as quick as he would like.

"Yes, sir. It's very easy to understand." They turned again this time coming up short against a huge set of decorative double doors. Markham scanned them with his flashlight. Glancing at the display, he turned to Ford, holding the device for him to see. "I think we're here."

**A A A A A A**

Tomar wasn't known as an excitable person but when the scouts came back with another of 517's kind with the piece in his core structure that was documented to activate the devices he had collected from other worlds, he nearly lost his reputation. Three... he had three in his possession. From the reactions to each other, they were companions which worked to his advantage. He could pit them against each other to get what he wanted. He lost his temper with the trainer, maybe a bit prematurely but he wanted to use these devices and it didn't matter if the subjects were compliant as long as he kept the others as incentive. Now the technology was within his grasp and patience was thin.

The device lit in John's hands, spewing sprinkles of light in established patterns. After it had established a skyline, little red dots began to appear, some close together, some great distances apart. He sat gaping, surrounded by the star chart projection. So star map then? Wait, the red dots... Stargate map. He brought his eyes down to meet Carson's then Rodney's. Both were grim and frightened, eyes flitting between John and Tomar.

Tomar smiled, eyes lit by the massive light show. "That's better." He released Rodney's arm coming toward John, his gaze still on the stars. He reached up to touch one of the red dots.

The stars instantly shifted, disappeared pulling down the image of a planet with Ancient script scrolling on the left. It switched views showing cloud cover then land masses and oceans, on the right flashed various pictures of people and plant life, even animals.

"It's a database," came Rodney's awed voice. Carson came to stand at his shoulder, eyes toward the ceiling. The guards behind them as distracted as everyone else in the room.

John paid Rodney no mind, as he was caught in his own thoughts. Tomar had just manipulated the device, meaning it only needed activated and could now be used by anyone. He looked down at the thing braced in his trembling hands. He couldn't let Tomar have this map of innocent worlds. Glancing at Tomar still entranced with the readout, he rose slowly to his feet. His knees almost didn't hold but he locked them in place. Then, before anyone in the room could react, threw the thing in his best lateral pass at the nearest wall.

It made a grand impact, throwing sparks and little bits of Ancient metal housing. It also put off enough of a concussion that the shelves nearest the impact crashed to the floor, shattering and even igniting many more Ancient devices. Black smoke billowed toward the high ceiling. The chain reaction was more than John could have hoped for but he didn't get a chance to be pleased with his plan as a hard slap to the back of his head threw him to the floor.

"Hey..." Rodney started forward but a kidney punch from thrown by the guard took him down, the wind knocked out of him. This was _so_ going bad fast.

Carson's attention flitted between Rodney and John, not sure what to do. Catching sight of the galoot behind making a grab for him, Carson dodged left, swinging around him to bring a double-handed pile driver to the back of his neck. The guard toppled like a sack of potatoes.

Rodney was distracted by Carson's flying fists and wondered what other hidden talents the Scot possessed until the guard who had hit him in the back made a move for the otherwise occupied doctor. Rodney kicked out, tripping the brute. Carson turned just in time to deliver the knock-out kick to the head. They were exchanging wide-eyed glances as two more guards rushed from their positions at the door.

"What have you done?" Tomar yelled through clenched teeth down at the stunned man. He blocked out the happenings in the rest of the room, rage propelling him after 517.

John was driven to his knees hard. His senses were disjointed from the blow. Survival training was quick to engage without his brain, rolling him to his back to kick at Tomar. A shockwave of pain ran from his bare heel up to his knee. It was like kicking a wall. But the timing was perfect, giving John a small swell of pride at the crunch of Tomar's nose. But a hit to his mouth out of nowhere brought tears to his eyes and blood to his lips. He didn't have a second to recover before a fist hit him in the chest forcing the air from his lungs.

He went down on his knees, cradling his sternum as time slowed. He felt his death near. Blood dripped from his gasping mouth onto the stone floor, sweat flattened his hair, streaming into his eyes. All sound tunneled to a pinpoint. Fingers gripped his hair, painfully pulling him close to Tomar's bloody face.

Tomar was beyond anger... rage flooded his veins. "Oh, no. You will not die today, 517... but one of your friends will." With that he threw John to the floor, turning to take after Carson and Rodney.

It was enough. A yell erupted from deep inside John Sheppard's soul, murderous anger driving him to thrust himself at Tomar's legs. He caught them right at the knee, feeling one crunch under his shoulder. Blind with rage, he grasped Tomar by the hair repeatedly bashing the back of his head against the floor. Voices called to him but he couldn't understand them. Nothing made sense. Nothing mattered.

Lt Ford and the rest of the team burst into the room, P-90s pointing in all directions until they got a good look at the situation. Aiden caught sight of Dr McKay and Dr Beckett each trying to beat off an attacker each but his breath caught at the sight of an oversized Bahtron, probably Tomar, tossing the major around like a rag doll. Everything went into slow motion as he ran toward the fighting. Taking careful aim, he took down the guard beating on Dr McKay. Shifting his gaze, he saw Markham put a bullet in the one after Dr Beckett.

Rodney pleaded with John mindful of setting him into a conniption. The man was gone, beyond hearing. Sweat and blood poured down his face. His eyes were set on Tomar, his focus on killing him. Rodney was finally able to get close enough to throw his arms around John's upper arms, effectively pinning them, then threw his weight backwards to pull the major off of Tomar. He slumped back onto his heels, holding the trembling man against his chest. They watched together as Carson cautiously approached, kneeling beside the unconscious Bahtron.

"He's still alive," he breathed, not necessarily relieved. "But unconscious for now."

Out of the corner of his eye, Rodney caught sight of Lt Ford, Teyla and Sgt Markham, weapons ready to take out any of the now unconscious terrorists should they so much as twitch. He thought he might die of joy, the weight of finding a way out of this hell lifted from his shoulders. "Oh, thank God," he breathed, unable to catch the hitch in his voice. He dropped his forehead to rest on John's shoulder, content to just not think for a moment.

Aiden glanced at the downed Bahtron guards, nuzzling those closest to him with his boot to be sure they were really out of the scenario. Motioned for Teyla and Markham to check to rest. He let his eyes fall to Dr McKay and Major Sheppard. They were panting, the major not taking his eyes off Tomar, Rodney was collapsed in relief. He knelt beside them putting a hand on Major Sheppard's shoulder, unprepared for the jerk away from his touch, exposing a device at the base of the major's skull. He opened his mouth to speak...

Rodney felt John lurch in his arms. Startled, he tightened his grip so the major couldn't get away, noticing Lt Ford at his shoulder. The lieutenant's expression was a mixture of shock and uncertainty. He followed the young man's gaze to the pain mechanism in the major's neck. "Lieutenant," he called. "Do _not_ _say his name_," he warned, annunciating very clearly. When Aiden nodded a wide-eyed reply, he turned his attention back to the doctor, sitting cross-legged, catching his breath. "Carson, we gotta go."

Carson raised bleary eyes at his name being called. One of those guards had gotten in a few good whacks to his head, causing the world to tip ever so slightly. Major Sheppard was leaned against Rodney, eyes locked on Tomar, as if he expected him to jump up at any moment. The man looked bad, bloody, glassy eyes. Carson could see exhaustion would take him soon. He met Rodney's concerned eyes, nodding his agreement.

Lt Ford got on Major Sheppard's right, wincing slightly at the pull to his shoulder. Rodney attached himself to the left, and they hefted him to his feet. Markham took point as they headed out.

John blinked, looked straight at Aiden, "It's about time, lieutenant."

Aiden couldn't help the smile that threatened to spread from ear to ear. He opened his mouth to talk but, at Rodney's icy glare, shut his mouth without a word. He wondered if anyone would ever tell him what 'don't say his name' meant, but he wasn't going to make that mistake to see first hand what would happen.

Carson made to stand, Teyla at his elbow to help should he require it. After a deep breath, he started slowly after the others.

Faster than he could understand, Teyla was ripped from his side and a thick hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He was pulled backwards against something solid then a rock hard arm wrapped around his neck. A gasp barely escaped his lips before his air was being cut off. He watched through desperate eyes as the rest of the team continued their limping pace toward the door.

Time slowed for Carson. It was only a few steps but to him it felt as if they would never turn. A cry from Teyla as she bounced across the floor brought everyone's attention around.

John's chest tightened at the sight of Tomar with Carson in a headlock. Without really thinking, he yank Lt Ford's nine mil from it's holster and aimed it at the psycho's head. His hand wavered, a nearly overwhelming aversion to pulling the trigger loosening his grip on the weapon.

A grin spread across Tomar's face. He held his face right beside Carson's, bloody spittle peppering the doctor's face as he spoke, "You can't kill me, 517 but I did promise that one of your friends would die today." His grip began to shift, arms to flex, beginning the move that would effectively snap the doctor's neck.

John's eyes met Carson's frightened ones. And he pulled the trigger.

Time stopped for John Sheppard.

He could barely make out Tomar starting to fall to the ground, a silent trickle of blood dripping down his high forehead, before the world shattered into a million pieces. Time distorted into eternity. Every nerve in his body seared with burning misery. He no longer knew who he was or what was happening. Curling into himself, he no longer tried to hold on to sanity and surrendered into oblivion.

FLASH

Voices echoed over him. Felt like he was floating. Every nerve screamed in pain.

FLASH

Bright lights invaded his vision. Squeezed his eyes shut to block them out. Head hurts.

FLASH

Kiersa was in his face. Saying something. No, it was over... right? He wanted to puke and did.

FLASH

Quiet. Nothing moving. No voices. No pain. Smell, Old-Spice-like. Carson.

FLASH

Antiseptic smells. Familiar sounds. Beep, beep, beep. Hiss. Whir. Snooore. Rodney. He smiled.

Rodney sat leaned back in the hard plastic chair, elbows braced on it's arms, fingers entwined across his belly. He hadn't moved in two days, neither had the major. The man just laid there, still as death, head slightly cocked Rodney's direction. He looked so small in those pale yellow clothes. His dark hair, a stark contrast to the bedding, stood out in all directions. His complexion was near as pale as the bed sheet, dark bruises marring his face, neck and arms. Three different intravenous bags combined into one line and ran into the major's forearm.

Carson stepped to Rodney's side. He had tried to make him go after he was cleared but the scientist wouldn't listen and Carson didn't have the strength to enforce it. He held out a hand to Rodney, in it lay a flat disc with a dozen or so snaky tendrils.

Rodney broke from his thoughts at the device thrust in his face. "This is it?" He had been a bit out of it when they left the treasure room, his glucose levels dropping like a stone once the adrenaline rush from the fight for his life ended.

Carson winced at the hoarseness of Rodney's voice. "Aye. That wee thing." He released it to Rodney's inquisitive fingers. After the thing was extracted, seeing it all splayed out, Carson had to suppress the urge to vomit. That was embedded in Major Sheppard's brain. If that Kiersa woman had not met them at the door offering assistance, he would have caused the major permanent brain damage trying to remove it.

Rodney studied the device in his hands. He briefly wondered where Tomar would have gotten it. He was a big fat thief, which meant he stole it from someone. Who would create such a thing? He cleared his throat, brow furrowed, handing it back to Carson. "How much longer till he wakes up?"

Carson shifted his gaze from the exhausted scientist to the unconscious major. Scanning the display of his vitals, Carson sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know. Look, Rodney, yer not doin any good here. Go to yer quarters, get some rest."

Rodney turned hard eyes to the doctor, snapping, "And if he wakes up and I'm not here?"

"I'll be here. And I can call you the second there's the slightest bit of change." Damn stubborn oaf.

God, he was so tired. He could see the doctor was tired as well. Both were bruised up quite a bit by those Bahtron guards. He sighed, shifting his elbows to his knees, leaning forward to cover his face with his hands, mutely refusing to leave. He felt Carson pat his shoulder, then the breeze as the doctor walked away.

The next he knew he was jerked awake, knocking the beige blanket to the floor. He stared at it dumbly for a moment. Carson must've covered him after he dozed off. He rubbed his eyes, looking around for what could've woke him. His gaze finally fell on Major Sheppard, meeting the hazel eyes head on. "Hey."

Slow blink, corners of the mouth twitch. Slower blink, licked his lips. Half blink, back into sleep.

Rodney released a heavy breath, unable to fully suppress the moisture that popped into the corner of his eyes.

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One chapter left. Thanks for all the reviews.

Thanks for the heads up on the duplicate paragraph, weird.


	8. The glory of the Lord is risen upon you

**Canon characters are not mine, just taking them out to play.**

**Story line and unfamiliar characters are mine, however, and I am an extremely possessive person.**

**Respectful feedback welcomed, encouraged, and craved.**

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**The glory of the Lord is risen upon you.**

John opened his eyes, squinting against the light. Cradled in the fog, he stared out at the dim medical bay. He didn't think, just watched. Every now and again a young woman in burgundy clothing would walk by that he would chase with his eyes until she was out of sight, then wait for her to come back into view and follow her again.

"Hello."

Soft voice, to the right. He blinked, slowly rolling his head that way. Found a friendly face, framed by dark curls. Elizabeth.

Elizabeth closed her laptop, setting in on the floor beside her chair. She leaned forward propping her elbows on her knees. "Are you going to stay with us for a while?"

He wasn't quite sure what she meant, his brain too muddled to form any concrete thoughts. The deep frown on his face plainly conveyed that to her.

"You've been unconscious for nearly thirty-eight hours, John." Serious concern set on her face. She repressed a sigh at the silence of her ranking military officer. "The trade agreement with the Noylan's is stronger now. They are extremely grateful for the elimination of Tomar and the return of their loved ones enslaved by him." She studied him. Seeing no response, she continued, "Sgt Bates went back to the planet with a team. The collected anything still intact from Tomar's lab. Dr Zelenka is in heaven cataloging it all." She pulled up a water glass from the floor by her foot, taking a sip. Patiently she went on, "I have been told quite the story about what happened on that planet. Would you care to give me your side of it?" She got a twitch of the eyebrows, nothing more. His attention seemed to be on her water. She brought the straw to his lips, letting him drink deeply, eyes closing as if in ecstasy. When he pulled back, she settled herself in the chair again. "Carson kicked Rodney out after an eighteen hour vigil. He was really worried about you. We all have been."

The fog in John's brain began to recede as he listened to Elizabeth talk. He was lulled along by the flow of her voice when a touch to his right arm set him moving faster that he thought himself capable since waking.

Elizabeth's smile at Carson was cut short when John suddenly lurched away from the doctor's touch. He landed in a trembling heap at her feet, wide eyes coming to bare on Carson.

It took a moment for John's brain to process that it was Carson standing on the other side of the bed. The man's blue eyes bugged, his mouth fell agape, he seemed frozen with his hands out in a weak effort to calm the major.

John shakily pushed himself to stand. He looked sheepishly between Elizabeth and Carson.

Carson kept his voice light, ignoring the panic attack but not daring to move either. "Sorry bout that, son. Didn't mean to startle you." He could see John's body quivering. "Yer drippin all over ma clean floor so climb back up here and let me hook you back up."

John looked to the hand Carson motioned at, seeing blood trailing in a steady stream down his hand to form a small puddle by his toes. He watched it drip for a moment, mesmerized by the red contrasting the white.

Elizabeth was at his side the second he fell out of the bed. After he stood, she gripped his upper arm, attempting to move him back into the bed at Carson's request. He glanced back at her, then nodded at the doctor and climbed into his place.

Elizabeth exchanged glances with Carson as she adjusted the bedding around the major. She was concerned that he still hadn't spoken and he was flighty, very unusual for the John Sheppard she knew. Her insides coiled remembering the reports Rodney and Carson had turned in.

Carson turned his attention to bandaging the rip caused when the IV pulled out and placing a new port in the major's forearm. His hands shook slightly, still unsettled by the experience with Tomar just days ago. Almost losing Major Sheppard to that device, the pain he witnessed it inflict, not being able to do a damn thing about it, all made him sick to his stomach. He hadn't been sleeping well, the events haunting his dreams.

He was stopped when Major Sheppard reached toward his forehead. He stood still, unflinching while the major traced the red burn that streaked across his temple disappearing into his hairline.

John recognized the mark on Carson as a bullet burn. He frowned trying to pull up the hazy memories from before the world whited out. He played through them like a VCR on fast-forward. Then paused when he saw Tomar with his arms around Carson's neck. He jumped at the sound of a gunshot echoing in his ears. He blinked out of the scene meeting Carson's eyes. "Sorry," he rasped.

Carson pushed Major Sheppard's hand back down to the bed giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Never mind that now." He gave an uncomfortable smile, glancing at Elizabeth with a self conscious shrug.

Elizabeth returned the smile. John's eyes turned to her with a desperate expression on his face. He gripped her hand in both of his pulling her close.

"Is he dead?" his voice quavered. If this was a dream, he wanted to die. If this was real, he wanted to laugh. If he was dead...

She met his gaze with a set determination. "Yes, you killed him."

"But I'm not dead." John looked around the room not really seeing.

Elizabeth was as confused as the major sounded. She glanced up at Carson.

Carson had a far-away look when he answered her unasked question, "Tomar said that device would kill him if he killed Tomar." Carson guided John's unresisting hand to the place at the base of his skull. He watched the trembling fingers trace the spot, now just a few small scabs in a bald patch of red skin. Saw the accepting nod, the lips pressed hard together, met the eyes that flitted between him and nothing out in the room. "Kiersa caught us before we left Tomar's lab. She pulled that thing out of you."

John felt his neck. A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders, from his soul. He had killed Tomar and was still sitting here in the medical bay, alive. He was suddenly sleepy. He scooted down in the bed, twisting to his side, pulling the covers over his shoulder. Carson patted his shoulder, the breeze signaling the doctor's retreat. Elizabeth was still at his other side. He had forgotten about her.

She pulled her chair close, leaning close. "Rest easy, major. We've got your back." She watched his eyes grow heavy and finally stay closed, as his breathing deepened with sleep.

**A A A A A A **

John tried to sleep. He would no sooner begin to drift off when he was jerked awake by visions of Tomar. Sometimes he busted Rodney's arm in two, sometimes he succeeded in snapping Carson's neck and sometimes John answered to '517'.

Carson watched his patient from across the medical bay. Saw how he fidgeted with the blankets to keep his hands from shaking. "Come on, son. You can make it through this," he whispered to himself. He had done all he could to heal John's body, the rest was up to the major. Even Dr Heightmeyer agreed that since he wouldn't talk to her, he would have to get control himself or be grounded indefinitely.

It had been nearly a week since he had returned to the land of the living. John had argued enough that he would sleep better in his own bed that Carson, under protest and extremely reluctant, cleared him to go straight to his quarters and not come out until he got a good twelve hours sleep. Now, he stood in the doorway of his bedroom, shadow stretching across the floor, distorted over the bed. He couldn't move. He couldn't go in there, alone, where his dreams would be quick to torment him. He snatched the green blanket from the bed without letting the door close. Wrapping himself in it, he headed toward the TV room.

Night on Atlantis was quiet, lonely. His sock feet wouldn't even give the comfort of his own footsteps. He didn't pass anyone one the journey. The Gate tech was at her post but her back was turned when he walked past the doorway.

Turning the volume setting to three, he sat back on the Ancient sofa to watch his 'Hail, Mary' football video. That's what got him home, wasn't it? A hail Mary. He watched with a slack expression. It wasn't as exciting as usual.

"What are you doing here?"

A voice from behind caused him to shoot unsteadily to his feet, spinning to face the direction of the voice. His breath came in great gasps, eyes wide. It took a moment to register that it was Rodney standing in the doorway, nearly as frightened as John. He hadn't seen Rodney since he woke up to Elizabeth at his side. Carson reassured him that the scientist was fine, just needing to hole up for a while, build his emotional wall back up.

"What?" He couldn't draw enough breath to speak above a whisper.

Rodney took a moment to study his friend, clad in a t-shirt and sweats, sock footed, trembling on the far side of the room. The whole Bahtron situation had shaken them both to the very soul of their being. It had been ten days since their return from the planet, twice as long as their incarceration on the planet. He expected everything to go back to normal but knew it had changed them. He didn't like change. He wanted things back to the way they were. He missed the snarky bantering competitions, the brain over brawn clashes, the sibling rivalry. The Major Sheppard he knew and respected was in this man somewhere. Rodney just had to have patience and exercise diligence in excavating him.

He sighed inwardly, coming around the sofa. He pasted on a friendly half-smile, reaching for the major's blanket that had fallen to the floor when he leaped up, offering it to his friend.

John forced himself to relax. He snatched the blanket from Rodney's fingers, wrapping it around his shoulders. "You scared the hell out of me, Rodney," he barked with false bravado. He briefly wondered if he would ever be warm again as he returned to his seat.

"Last I heard you were sent to your room." Rodney sat beside him, watching him out of the corner of his eye.

Keeping his gaze forward, John pulled his blanket tighter. He wanted to ignore the question and just sit in the mindless void that he visited often since returning to Atlantis.

Finally, he shrugged, quietly answering, "Couldn't sleep in that tiny room."

"Ah, I was told that was the only room you could sleep in..." Rodney gently retorted, maybe trying too soon to pull his friend out from behind the wall he was building around himself. He feared the major would finish it and never come out.

"Well, maybe not so much...," he whispered slouching further into the couch.

Rodney looked down at his clasped hands. He knew John hadn't slept well since returning to Atlantis. The only way he slept himself was the light sedatives Carson doled out every night. He drew a deep breath to speak but for probably the first time in his life, Rodney didn't know what to say. He sat in silence waiting for the words to come. When they did, they weren't what he expected. "I'm sorry you went through that."

John kept his eyes on the football game. What was he supposed to say to that? It was nothing? It's okay? No, it wasn't okay and it sure as hell wasn't nothing. He was driven within a sliver of his sanity, driven to uncontrollable rage and watched his friends tortured and nearly killed at the hands of a complete psycho control freak. But Rodney shouldn't be apologizing to him, he should be apologizing to Rodney for not seeing this whole mess coming.

Rodney could see the struggle in Major Sheppard's tense face. He decided it would be best to change the subject, quick. "You know, I'm not very good at this, so... let's talk about something else."

Elizabeth couldn't sleep. The ordeal on the Noylan's planet made her wonder what the hell they were doing out there. John and Rodney could have been killed. Carson and the rescue team could have been killed. Every turn here in the Pegasus galaxy could be deadly. They were children playing with fire. Someday they would get burned.

She found herself climbing the stairs in the gate room, heading to her office. Maybe some paperwork would make her groggy enough to actually sleep. As she topped the stairway, she heard voices from the opposite direction, the TV room. She crept to the doorway, seeing the tops of two heads barely over the back of the couch, one dark, one lighter. Leaning, arms folded, she smiled at their conversation.

"The US would **so** kick you Canuck's asses any day of the week."

John sounded... normal. His voice was tired, maybe a bit strained but the zeal and determination was definitely reappearing. Elizabeth knew it was too early to hope but if anyone could drag him out of himself it would be Rodney.

"On what grounds do you base that bold yet erroneous remark?"

Elizabeth could hear the excitement in Rodney's voice. She had watched as John and Rodney developed the most unlikely of friendships. She also knew that as long as Atlantis was cut off from Earth, they were all a big family and would eventually grow into that role. She was startled by a hand on her shoulder. Carson stood beside her, a twinkle lighting his blue eyes, a finger held to his lips. They listened together for a while, sometimes having to stifle the laughter that threatened to give away their eavesdropping. Football, soccer, fast-food, beaches, on and on. The perpetual mock-pissing contest finally drifted into silence.

When the view screen went to static and the two on the sofa made no move to end it, Carson stepped into the room. As he suspected, both were asleep. He turned to switch the noise off.

Elizabeth followed Carson in, having a peek at the two best friends. John was wrapped in a blanket, arms crossed, sock feet propped out on the coffee table, head cocked sideways. Rodney was in a similar position, sans the wrap, chin resting on his chest. She suddenly felt tired herself. She heard Carson whisper behind her. Turning to him, she saw him fighting to turn off the TV. She smiled doing it for him. He returned the smile, albeit a bit sheepishly.

"Should we make them go to bed?" she whispered, turning back to the sleepers, arms folded.

Carson shook his head, hands on hips, regarding the two, "Neither has slept well since this mess. We'll let them be tonight."

Elizabeth nodded her agreement. She patted the doctor's arm. "Good night, Carson."

"Night, Elizabeth." He sighed, glancing around the room. He felt exhausted. Maybe he'd just sit here for a moment. He flopped in the chair at Major Sheppard's left. Just for a moment...

Elizabeth came back into the media room a few minutes later. She had gone to her quarters to get a blanket for Rodney. She smiled at the new sleeper, legs thrust out on the table beside John's. Good thing she brought two blankets.

**A A A A A A **

John lay in bed staring at the ceiling of his quarters, thinking. He spent many nights this way. Thinking, mulling over what-ifs. Tonight was different, he seemed to be full to capacity with energy and felt about to pop. Emotion bubbled, threatening to overflow. His teeth clenched and released, his fists knotted and eased. He was tired of this. He could either let Tomar win from his place in hell or he could fight this.

He closed his eyes, envisioning that box, the one in which he kept his emotions. He pulled it out, dusted it off, opened it to peek inside. Under the lid was the murder of Colonel Sumner. On top, he piled '517', pain, shame and guilt brought by the experience on the Noylan's planet then shut the lid. He knew without a doubt that the memories would fight their way out. Someday he would have to fight with them again. But for now he would surround himself by his friends and family in Atlantis. He pulled out a padlock the size of his hand and clamped it on the hasp...

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It has been a long journey but I am satisfied with the story. I hope you enjoyed the trip.

Thanks for all the great reviews.

Hey, if you are reading this a year from now, review anyway. I would love to hear from you.


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